Western Skies
by Anrui Ukimi
Summary: Jim Kirk manages to be special in every universe, and this one is no exception. A story about life and love; where wings are really handy sometimes, and family is who we choose, not what we are born to. Kirk/Bones, and Pike/Archer. First part of #6 up!
1. Under an atomic sky

**Hello world! :D**

Thanks for showing interest in my "little" story here! Before you roll your eyes and hit the back button at the POV of the first part, let me go ahead and clarify the sections:

Part 1 - Chris Pike POV, Jim is 11 years old.

Part 2 - Jim Kirk POV, Jim is 16 years old.

Part 3 - John Archer POV, Jim is 16 years old.

Part 4 - Chris Pike POV, Jim is 19-22 years old.

Part 5 - Jim Kirk POV, Jim is 21-25 years old.

Part 6 - Len McCoy POV, Jim is 25 years old.

Jim is the main character, with Chris, Bones, and (to a lesser extent) John as the primary supporting cast.

I know I pulled a Harry Potter here (first section is less than 10k words, but #5 is over 60k,) but I really hope you stick it out and enjoy it! :) I thought about carving it up into smaller parts, but I really prefer the breaks being where they are, with the change of POV.

It has X-Men inspired elements, but this is _not_ a crossover by any means. Prior knowledge of X-Men is not needed.

**I reply to all signed reviews, so if you have an account, log in! I'd love to be able to say thank you. :D (I'd reply to all, but it's kinda hard when there's no way to do so.)**

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A shout out to my wonderful beta** welovethelegend**, without her I would have had some serious continuity errors. :)

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**Some notes before you read:**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just having a little fun with them. :)**

Actual Summary: Chris Pike gets a very odd call from an old friend in the middle of the night, and his life is never the same...

AU Summary: Over 200 years before the famous birth of James T. Kirk, the governments of the world had collaborated in the drug-induced suppression of the x-gene, then considered a mutation to be eliminated. Over time, however, it became acknowledged that the x-gene was the next step in evolution; now firmly out of humanities' reach due to the actions of the past. Brushed aside in the excitement of their expanding universe, the issue was considered a lost cause and all but forgotten. But the makers of the drug could never have anticipated a birth happening in the midst of the most unique of circumstances...

TL;DR: X-Men 3 ended differently with the mutant "cure" being forced on world population, no more mutants were born after about 2025. Then the Kelvin happened.

A Short Note on Ages: Due to the lack of official ages of the "older" characters, I have wrangled my own ideas of them based on character and actor. I want to thank **robanybody** for her wonderful "Two Gay Uncles" series, which inspired me to put Archer in this. :) (Yes, I am well aware that he would be well over 100 otherwise. Canon DODGE!)

In this story:

Jim - 11  
Chris Pike - 36  
Winona Kirk - 40  
*George Kirk - 39 (would-be age)  
Jonathan Archer - 47

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**Under an atomic sky**

Chris had just settled into a rather odd dream involving an Orion girl who looked suspiciously like Number One and a beast that he recognized as being from Vulcan, riding around a desert that reminded him of the stretch of the Mojave that bursts into life as one leaves Las Vegas, the yucca trees unmoving as the animal and the Number One-esque Orion frolicked around them when a high pitched tone caused the vision to waver. He tried to keep track of the Orion girl, but she rode off on the sehlat (that's what it was called, he knew he had heard the name somewhere) and the beeping wouldn't stop so when he reached out his hand to get the green girl's attention, he got a rude awakening in the form of his hand colliding forcefully with a solid surface.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Chris pulled back his throbbing appendage and turned his head into his pillow with a groan, clenched his eyes closed and tried to find the desert again, but that incessant beeping kept ringing through his ears. Beeping. What the hell was beeping?

Chris jolted awake, diving for the nightstand he had just crunched his hand into, knocking an empty glass and a PADD off its surface before he reached his comm unit; snapping it open without looking at the incoming caller ID. "Pike." For a long moment, there was no response, and Chris bit back a sigh. "It's too early for this shit," he mumbled, and reached up to shut the communicator.

"C...Chris?" The voice was female, and sounded off. Chris racked his brain to recognize it.

"Chris, are you there?"

Recognition came like a bolt of lightning. "Winnie? Is that you?" Chris was completely awake now, listening to the breathing coming through the communicator.

"...sorry to call you like this, Chris. I just wanted someone to talk to. I can't talk to Frank." Winona's voice is shaking less, but there was something in her tone that made a chill run up his spine. "God, Chris, how long has it been? You went off on that ship of yours, and I...I..."

Chris couldn't take it anymore. "Winnie, what's wrong?"

A sharp intake of breath was the only response, and Chris set the communicator on the nightstand and pulled on his pants, too concerned to even notice that he had managed to get into them without tripping like he always does in the morning. "Winnie..."

"He's my little angel, you know? Everyone told me that I was so blessed to have such a beautiful child as a last gift from George, and I know it's true...my little angel..." Winona's voice dropped in timbre, the last three words sounding like she was reading an obituary, and Chris threw a shirt over his head and grabbed the comm.

"Where are you, Winnie? Are you at home? Is Jimmy alright?" Chris could not stop the worry that was rushing to fill his chest, and Winona's next words made it grow to a pounding fear.

"He's my little angel, Chris. I just never thought it would be so...true."

Chris turned on his computer console and put in an emergency request for a private shuttle for immediate use while Winona was talking, grabbing his ID and communicator while he headed for the door. "Talk to me, Winnie. Tell me what's happening."

"I...I can't do this anymore, Chris. Frank doesn't understand, nobody understands. Jimmy, he...god." Her voice hitched, and Chris clenched his jaw as the door closed behind him.  
Chris flagged down a taxi, muting the comm from his end as he gave the driver instructions. He had only been dirtside for a week, enjoying his extended shore leave while the Yorktown was in Spacedock for a series of upgrades. He hadn't made many plans, and they certainly hadn't included rushing to Iowa to...he didn't know what he was doing. He unmuted the comm. "Winnie, I'm going to come over, alright? Sounds like you need someone to talk to, and I haven't seen you in awhile." Chris attempted to keep his tone light, but he could hear the shudder in the words. He just hoped that she couldn't.

"Come over? Maybe...that isn't a good idea Chris. I mean, the house is a mess, I just got back from Spacedock, and Frank...I don't want to fight with him again." Winona spoke much faster than before, her breathing more audible than ever over the small device. "I need to figure out what to do with Jimmy, and clean the house, and...Jimmy."

Chris handed the taxi driver the required credits as he exited the cab and quickly entered the Starfleet shuttle docks, running his ID through the reader. As he walked towards the small shuttle, he lifted the comm to his mouth. "Just talk with me, Winnie. What's going on with Jimmy? Problems at school? Problems with his stepfather?"  
Winona laughed then, a harsh sound that carried no mirth. "All of the above, Chris. He's so special, so perfect...he's too smart for his classes, Frank can't handle him. He's been even worse since I got him back from that damn colony."

The shuttle rumbled to life, and Chris lifted off, leaving San Francisco behind as the shuttle sped towards Iowa. He almost didn't notice Winona's last statement. Chris's hands almost slipped on the controls when his brain processed it, but before he could speak, Winona's voice came through again.

"They killed my sister, Chris. They almost killed my boys. Sam has been doing alright, as well as can be expected...but Jimmy has been impossible, according to Frank. I mean, he drove George's car off the quarry cliff, the police officer said he had never seen anything like it; Jimmy just jumped from it right before it went over, the officer said it was like he knew he would be fine, and now...I think I see why." Winona stopped with a choking sound, and Chris willed the shuttle to go faster.

"Winnie, is Jimmy alright? Did this just happen?" Chris could barely focus on piloting the shuttle as Winona spoke, and horror was swiftly joining the worry in his gut. No answer, and Chris tried to stay calm. "Winona? Is Jimmy alright?"

"The car thing happened over a month ago, Chris, I just got back....a real angel, Chris, that's what he is, I can't handle him. Angels should be with their own, yeah? Chris? He's always been different, Chris. Smarter, sharper, with those eyes that see right through you. Frank is scared of him, Chris. I...think I might be too."

* * *

Chris would later wonder how he had managed to keep calm during the two and a half hour flight to Riverside, trying to keep Winona talking while piloting the shuttle. As soon as he touched down, he transferred to a vehicle and sped towards Winona's house, saying every damn thing he could think of just to hear her reply. He hadn't been out there in over five years, but he navigated the flat landscape like he had just been there yesterday. When he was about five minutes away, Winona spoke up one last time, her voice flat and pinched.

"Angels...belong in heaven, right... Chris? I think it would be better for him. This isn't his world, Chris. He's not like the rest of us...he's in pain being here, Chris. I..." Chris felt his blood run cold, and he slammed the gas pedal to the floor.

"Winnie, listen to me. Let me to talk to Jimmy, maybe you two just need some time apart. I can take him for awhile, Winnie, just...let me talk to him." He was babbling now, but he needed to keep her distracted. "Winnie?"

Another laugh, this one breaking off into a sob. "He can't talk right now, Chris. He's, he's asleep."

Chris nearly slammed into the front of the old farmhouse in his distraction, but managed to stop the car and get out. "Winnie, I'm coming in. Don't do anything, I'll talk to you inside." The door was unlocked; he eased it open and stepped in. He opened his mouth to call to Winona, when he saw a shadow lying at the base of the stairs. He had only met Frank at the wedding over five years ago, but he recognized the motionless form, and his own pulse jumped. A quick touch to the man's neck revealed that he was only unconscious, and Chris let out a soft sigh. The house was dark, and he moved cautiously. "Winnie? Where are you?"

"In here, Chris." her broken voice responded from the next room. He approached the door with a trepidation that did not help his nerves. A smell Chris knew well came to his attention as he approached, and his chest tightened.

"Winnie, I'm going to turn on the light." Chris felt the wall for the switch, damning the lack of technology in the old farmhouse as his fingers bumped into the switch. The wall was tacky to the touch, and his fingers felt wet as he flipped it on.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, the scene laid out before made him forget how to breathe. To his left, Winona Kirk sat on the edge of an old sofa, her pale fingers wrapped around a Starfleet-issued phaser, her eyes staring at the ground at her feet. Chris noticed the small specks that seemed to coat her and everything around her, and he brought his fingers up to his face. The dark red flecks on the tips of his fingers were already dry, and Chris let his eyes drop from his fingers to follow the spatter to its source. His feet moved before he realized it, and he dropped to his knees beside the slender form as the sickening smell of drying blood attacked his nostrils. With hands that were starting to shake, he reached out and pulled off the towel that was draped across Jim Kirk's shoulders and torso.

"My god." The boy's back was covered in a fine coating of blood, and on his back was--

"What did I tell you, Chris? He's a little angel." Winona bit back what sounded like a laugh, and the edge of hysteria in her voice brought Chris to his feet.

"Let me have the phaser, Winnie." Chris approached her slowly, but she didn't move as he reached down and pulled her fingers away from the weapon. It had been set to kill, and Chris shuddered as he disabled it. Shoving it into his pocket, he returned to Jim Kirk's side. He grabbed the towel and began to wipe at the blood, revealing ragged skin and tiny, cherubic wings that looked demonic until he removed the gore that covered them. Wings. James T. Kirk, a child borne in the midst of a horrible tragedy that had claimed both his father and, Chris believed, a large part of his mother, had sprouted wings. They were too small to be of use, perhaps less than a meter long each, but they were fully formed, white feathers laced with gold streaks appeared as Chris cleaned the gristle off. Despite the blood that appeared to have coated every surface of the room at first glance, Jim was only a bit pale, his breathing steady and strong. By all appearances, he had simply passed out. "When did this happen, Winnie?"

Winona was looking towards the door Chris had entered through, her eyes red and unfocused. When she didn't respond, Chris turned back to Jim and gently lifted the thin boy into his arms, being careful to avoid touching the new appendages. The jostling brought a moan to Jim's lips, and Chris stopped moving as Jim's eyes, still that amazing shade of blue, opened and attempted to focus.

"Whassgoinon...?" Jim stiffened, and Chris lowered him back to the floor.

"Hey, Jimmy, you remember me? I saw you last at your mom's wedding, remember?" Chris retained his hold on the boy, but loosened his grip. Jim's eyes scanned his face, and then he nodded.

"Mr...Pike?"

Chris gave a slight smile and nodded. "Call me Chris, Jimmy. Why don't we get you cleaned up." It was the wrong thing to say, as Jim's eyes grew wide as he noticed the carnage around him; with a cry, he flung himself out of Chris's arms, scrambling to his feet and darted his head around, the fear on his face growing more obvious with each passing second.

"Mom? Mom, what's going on? Why is there blood everywhere?" Jim walked toward where his mother was sitting, and reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. With a strangled cry, Winona's hand snapped up and slapped her son's hand from its resting place.

"Don't! Don't...Jimmy, go...go with Chris. Let him help you get cleaned up." The alarm in Winona's voice caused Jim to stumble backwards, and she kept her gaze firmly set at the doorway. Jim's hand was still raised, but he stayed where he was.

"Mom?" Jim's voice had become rough, and his eyes were beginning to water. As he blinked rapidly, he reached a hand and scratched at a spot on his lower back, below the wings. "My back feels weird."

That may be the understatement of the century, Chris thought, as he moved next to Jim, watching the small hand move closer to the edge of the new flesh. He decided to speak up before Jim finished his exploration. "Jimmy, I'm going to be honest with you." Chris noted a mirror on the far side of the room, away from the blood and confusion, and he laid a hand on Jim's shoulder and started moving him towards it. "Your mom called after...well, you can see for yourself." Chris let go of Jim and moved a pace away, allowing Jim to view himself in the mirror.

Jim looked at his reflection straight on, his befuddlement clear to Chris. "What the hell, I don't-" His voice broke off with a gasp as he pivoted his torso, the red-stained feathers coming into view. He stared at his reflection wordlessly after that, twisting his body and craning his head over his shoulders to look at the new limbs. His face screwed itself into an ugly smirk, and Chris grew worried all over again. "I guess I get to be an even bigger freak now! Not enough to be a skinny freak, I get to have wings now too! Shit!" Jim kicked at the wall, causing the mirror to shift on its mounting. The outburst appeared to contain all the energy Jim had left, and he staggered back from the recoil into Chris's chest. Chris immediately wrapped an arm around the boy's waist, and Jim sagged in his grasp, breathing in shaking gasps. "Mr. Pike..."

"Chris, Jim. Chris is fine."

Jim took a deep breath and started again. "C-Chris, I've got wings."

Chris rested his free hand on Jim's head, lightly stroking through the long sun-bleached locks. Flecks of dried blood were dislodged from the motion, and Chris grimaced. "Let's get you cleaned up, Jimmy. We'll let your mom relax down here for a bit." Without waiting for a reply, he guided Jim out of the room, leaving its crime scene feelings behind. Chris had completely forgotten about Frank, and almost tripped over him at the base of the stairs. He saw Jim's eyes widen again, and he was quick to assuage him. "Just unconscious, Jim. Looks like he tripped." Stunned was more likely, but Jim didn't need to know that.

"Ah, okay." Jim's voice had taken on a floating tone, and Chris was pretty damn sure that the boy was going into shock. Stepping over Frank's still form, he got both of them up the stairs without further incident.

"Where's your bathroom, Jimmy?" Chris looked down at the crown of Jim's head, and when he didn't get an answer, he tapped the top of the kid's head with his chin. "Bathroom, Jim. Where is it?"

"Oh, uh, second door on the left. I...I have my own."

Chris maneuvered them through the designated door. Jim's room was surprisingly spartan. It contained items that he would expect in a boy's room, a few toys, a stack of PADDs, some assorted sports equipment with various levels of wear, but there were no pictures, no school awards, and Chris's lips tightened at the sight. He didn't have time to dwell on it, however, and he led Jim into the bathroom. The boy was already shirtless, but he was covered in blood spatter. "Jim, we need to get you out of those pants." Jim looked up at him, and slowly brought his hands to the waistband of his trousers, pushing them and his underwear down in one motion. He stepped into the small shower, and Chris turned on the spray; the water immediately turned pink around Jim's ankles, and Chris watched the shell-shocked expression relax as the shower beat down on Jim's face and shoulders. His wings were still filthy, however, and Chris tapped his finger on Jim's shoulder.

"Yeah?" Jim looked like he was about to fall asleep, and Chris reached over and grabbed a bottle of shampoo.

"Let me help you with your hair and your, er, wings before you fall asleep standing up." Chris met Jim's eyes, and when the boy nodded, he got to work. After giving Jim's hair a through scrubbing, he turned him around so his back was to the showerhead. Jim immediately flinched, and a hiss escaped his throat. Chris pointed the showerhead down. "Sensitive?"

Jim nodded, but said nothing. Chris made a soft noise in the back of his throat. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I think you are going to have to bear it for a few minutes. I need the spray to help clean all this gunk off of you." No answer, and Chris angled the showerhead back up after adjusting the pressure down. As he worked his hands over the boy's back and wings, he began to think about the future. Jimmy couldn't stay here, at least for awhile; Winona's state of mind was unstable at best regarding her youngest son at the moment, and he didn't want Jim to end up a sad statistic, or further scarred by the situation. The boy already had enough pain to deal with. Why had Jim and Sam been on Tarsus? She said Sam was doing alright, but-.

Chris startled, and jabbed his fingers a bit too forcefully into the wing bones, causing Jim to gasp. He murmured an apology, and continued working. Where was Sam? "Jim, where is your brother?"  
Jim shrugged. "I think he's at Gramma's house."

Chris exhaled. "Alright. Say, Jim-"

"You're taking me with you, aren't you? I don't think Mom wants me here anymore, and I don't want to deal with Frank." Jim twisted his head around to look over his shoulder at Chris, and Chris nodded without thinking about it.

"I think you and your Mother just need some time apart, to let things calm down. As for Frank, I don't really know what to say, Jim. Maybe a few weeks." Chris gave the wings one last once-over, and turned off the water.

Jim snorted, and reached for a towel. "It's not going to be just a few weeks, Chris. I'm not an idiot. Frank will have me shipped off to a lab or something so fast I'll get whiplash. I mean, he was planning to send me off to some boarding school program without telling Mom. She just found out earlier today, right before...this happened." Jim motioned in the general direction of his back as he stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist.

Chris headed back to the bathroom, looking out the window as Jim rifled through his drawers for clothing. "What am I gonna do for a shirt?" Chris turned around and pursed his lips. Jim stood in the center of the room in old jeans holding a t-shirt, and looked a bit lost.

"You are taking this a lot better than I thought you would." Chris reentered the bathroom, and after a moment of searching emerged with a roll of elastic bandages. "This is probably going to be a bit uncomfortable, but we'll figure out something better later."

"I can handle it." Chris raised an eyebrow, and started wrapping the bandages around Jim's torso and wings, flattening them against his back.

"I'm sure you can, Jimmy, considering I heard an interesting story about you driving a car off a cliff. Why did you do that?" Chris said, and watched as Jim bristled at the questioning tone in his voice.

"Frank was going to sell it! It's not his, he didn't have the right." As soon as Chris finished, Jim pulled the t-shirt over his head, and went and looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "It looks like I have a hump."

It did, but Chris decided not to vocalize his agreement to Jim's statement. "The car wasn't yours, either. It was your mother's." Jim scoffed, and pulled a duffel out of his closet, and began stuffing things into it as Chris watched.

"She didn't care about it, it was just a memory. It was beginning to rust in the barn, until Frank started working on it. At first, I thought it was cool, you know? That he was going to fix it up. I even hoped I'd be able to drive it someday. But I realized that he was just getting it ready to sell, and I couldn't let him." Jim shook his head, and grabbed a few of the PADDs, shoving them in the bag with his clothes. "I'm ready."

Chris's eyes widened. "That was fast."

Jim was already at the door to the bedroom. "I don't have much."

"Do you have a jacket in there?" Chris said, and glanced towards the closet.

Jim rolled his eyes. "Just a thin one. It's still warm outside."

Chris grabbed a long coat out of the closet, and tossed it to Jim, who caught it with his head. "You need it to help keep your new body parts out of view, Jim. Not for the weather."

"Oh, yeah." Jim slung it over his arm, and the two of them walked downstairs. Frank was still unconscious, but he was groaning and shuddering on the floor. They needed to leave. Jim fell back behind Chris as they reentered the room where Chris had found him. Winona had cleaned up while they were upstairs, the blood all but gone from the various surfaces. Chris could see a few spots she had missed, but they were small.

"Winona?" Chris said, and the shadow in the doorway leading to the kitchen froze.

"How's...how's Jim?" Winona stayed where she was, and Chris sighed.

"He's right here, Winnie." Chris could hear her intake of breath, and watched with a sudden bolt of sadness as she moved backwards toward the kitchen. Behind him, he heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, and his shoulders crumpled. "I'm going to take Jimmy for awhile, okay? Let things calm down here. I'll call you in a week or so." Chris turned and put a hand on Jim's shoulder, feeling the tiny tremors that he was obviously trying to resist. "We should go, Jim. Before your stepfather wakes up and we have more issues to deal with."

"He doesn't know." Winona had moved into the room enough to discern her face from the darkness, but nowhere near either of them. "I stunned him before he could get in the room."

Chris nodded, and headed towards the front door. "It would be best for it to remain that way." He opened the front door, and looked back. "I'll leave your phaser out here, Winnie. You know how to fix it." Chris stepped outside and set the phaser on the banister on the front porch, then turned back to see Jim hovering in the threshold. "Jim?"

Jim looked back into the house and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After a long uncomfortable moment, Jim walked out on the front porch, closing the door behind him. Without a word, the two got into the car Chris had requisitioned, and Chris started it up. As the vehicle moved away from the farmhouse, Chris took one last look at the front door through his rear-view mirror. He needn't have bothered.

* * *

Jim stayed quiet even after they switched from the car to the shuttle, and Chris navigated the flight path back to San Francisco in silence. About thirty minutes outside the city, Jim finally spoke. "Do you know why I have wings all of a sudden?" Jim looked over at Chris, who double-checked his controls before settling back into his seat.

"I have an idea. I'll have to get some equipment to confirm it, but I have a feeling I'm right." At Jim's look, he continued. "You know about the x-gene?"

Jim nodded. "It's the gene that was forced into dormancy a few hundred years ago through drugs, right? The one that gave people weird abilities?"

Chris nodded back, scratching his chin. "It's been about two-hundred years since the last person with an active x-gene was born. I think the current estimate is that over fifty percent of the population has it, but, again, dormant. The United Earth government denies it now, but it's pretty well accepted that the drug regime was not a choice for the people at that time."

Jim shuffled, leaning forward to keep his back from touching the seat. "It's because I was born in space, isn't it?"

"I don't think it is because you were born in space, but because you were born in the midst of a disaster of unparalleled proportions. I saw some of the readings that were transmitted before everything went...sideways, Jim. There were intense levels of radiation, some types Starfleet hasn't the faintest clue even now as to what it was. A shuttlecraft is not as shielded as a starship, it wouldn't be unfeasible that you got a dose of radiation at your birth." Chris said, as he took the controls and began the descent into San Francisco.

"I started feeling weird after the car thing. My back kept itching, but I didn't wanna say anything." Jim wiggled in his seat as if to empathise this, his back still angled away from the back of the seat.

"Your mom and stepfather were in a fight earlier, weren't they?"

Jim sneered at the statement, and looked out the window. "Yeah. It started after I brought up the boarding school thing. Mom doesn't like when Frank fucks with us without her input."

"Jim, that's inappropriate."

Jim snorted at Chris's tone. "It's true. He was going to send us both away years ago, it was mom's compromise with him to send us to stay with her sister. And that turned out so well."

There was nothing Chris could say to that.

* * *

The next week confirmed what Chris had suspected with some acquired medical equipment. Jim's x-gene was active, and it was still causing physical changes. Jim's wings doubled in size within the week, leaving the eleven-year old mostly bedridden with muscle cramping and spasms. He lost several kilograms, and the tricorder revealed that his bones were losing density, the marrow dissolving to hollow them out. His body was preparing itself for flight, even though Jim could only make his wings twitch at this point.

On the ninth day, Chris called Winona. She asked him to take Jim permanently; he argued about his position not being practical for taking in a kid, but she knew he had leeway due to his position as Captain on the Yorktown. Jim's choices were either staying with him or going off-planet somewhere, and the latter option didn't have his mother in the equation. There was no choice there, and Chris agreed to keep Jim with him. She talked to Jim with the video feed off, and Jim's lack of surprise at the situation made Chris want to cry for the boy. He settled on a squeeze of the shoulders and making whatever Jim wanted for dinner.

After three weeks, Jim could move his wings enough to glide from the top of the stairs to the second story of his house to the bottom. The joyous grin that Jim shot him after he successfully landed made Chris think that maybe, just maybe, this would all work out.

He knew he would get summoned to the Admiralty after he put in a request for expansion of his quarters on the Yorktown. It took them longer than he thought it would, and a month after taking Jim from Iowa, he walked into a conference room at Starfleet Command.

"Take a seat, Captain." Admiral Nogura motioned, and Chris followed the command. Admiral Lehrer had a bemused look on his face, but then he had never known the man to have anything but; Commodore Newton looked like she would rather be somewhere else. Chris was in the middle of wondering if she still sponsored the cadet chorale at the academy when Nogura cleared his throat.

"Captain, this should be a short meeting, we don't want to keep you from your leave too long." Nogura jabbed his finger at a PADD sitting in front of him, and motioned to Newton with his free hand. "Commodore."

The fair-skinned blond woman leaned forward, scanning the information on a PADD in front of her as she opened her mouth. "Good to see you again, Captain Pike." Newton said, nodding to Chris who smiled and nodded in return. "We just have a few questions regarding your sudden request to have a bedroom added to your quarters aboard the Yorktown. You have stated that your reasoning is that your son will be joining you; this would generally not be an issue, as the Yorktown has available room, but in that this is the first time we have heard of you having a son, and we are concerned that this may be a decision that has not been thoroughly considered." The Commodore looked at Chris with a raised brow, and Chris stiffened his back.

"I am the only person James has left. He is an incredibly intelligent boy, he will do just fine in space." Chris met Newton's eyes, and she smirked.

"That is all well and good, Captain, but you didn't answer the question. Is there anywhere else that this boy can go? Joining you on-board ship should be a last resort, not a first choice. Starfleet has always maintained that space is not a suitable place to raise children, which I am sure you are aware of." Nogura and Lehrer's eyes reflected the same question, and Chris closed his eyes for a moment.  
"Captain, we apologize for the intrusion of your privacy, but your request involves Starfleet property, and as such we simply wish to confirm that this is the best solution for all sides." Admiral Lehrer's droll tones were actually a bit soothing, and Chris felt himself relax.

"His mother is...gone, and my mother is in no condition to raise a child. I have no intention of leaving him in a boarding school either, I do not believe that would be a wise move for him." Chris said, spreading his hands apart palms-up like he was delivering a benediction. Lehrer smiled in response, his eyes echoing the expression under the old-fashioned spectacles.

"Works for me, Captain. Gentlemen?" Newton nodded, and Chris looked at Nogura, forcing down a reaction to the older man's expression. Nogura's chin was resting on his knuckles, his eyes boring into Chris. Lehrer cocked an eyebrow at the exchange. "Admiral?"

Nogura held his gaze for another beat, before dropping his hands and nodding. "I think we have asked what was needed." Nogura glanced at both Admiral Lehrer and Commodore Newton while he rose to his feet. "Any last questions?"

"No, I think we've inconvenienced Captain Pike enough. If you will excuse me, Captain." Lehrer gave him a slight smile, and departed.

Newton came up to Chris and stopped abreast, placing her hand on his shoulder. "If you need anything, Chris, let me know." She patted his shoulder, then headed out of the room. "Come by and visit, Chris, I miss hearing that lovely voice of yours!" Newton's voice faded as she grew further away, and Chris chuckled under his breath. He forgot about Nogura for a long moment. That was a mistake, as he looked up to see that the man was flanking him. Chris never heard him move, and he barely refrained from jumping.

"Pike. You never struck me as the type to impregnate and run, to put it bluntly." Nogura's expression was disapproving, and Chris suddenly felt like he was being cornered by his father. The man only had fifteen years on him, for fuck's sake!

Unable to completely hide his opinion of Nogura's statement, Chris ground his teeth together and did not respond, and Nogura snorted as he walked by. "Forgive me, Captain; it isn't my business. I wish you luck with your son, I'll see you back here at the end of your leave." Chris didn't move as the Admiral left the room, and it was a long moment before he let his jaw relax.

Nogura's response was what he expected, but it was a different thing to actually hear it. As long as he continued to do his job to the best of his abilities, they couldn't officially use this against him.

Officially.

He would just have to do that much better then. He wouldn't give them a chance to use Jim against him. Neither Jim or he deserved it. Letting loose a sigh, Chris strode from the room and left the building, noting the heat that was unusual for this time of year. Chris suddenly wondered if Jim's new wings would molt, as he turned towards the car park to head home.

"Chrissy!" A solid weight slammed into him from behind, and he would have tumbled to the ground if there wasn't an arm around his waist keeping him upright.

"Goddamnit, John! Warn a man before you body-check them, please!" Chris twisted out of the arm's reach, glaring at the laughing face that owned it. Jonathan Archer waved a hand in dismissal.

"But it's so much more fun to watch you bluster, Chrissy." Archer slung his arm through Chris's, and they continued together on the path to the car park. "So what's this I hear about a kid? You've requested an expansion of your quarters and everything. I suppose this is why you've been scarce the last month?" Chris looked away from Archer as he blasted him with questions, and Archer trailed off. "Chris, what's going on? How old is this kid? I barely remember you emerging from classes and studying to go to the Starfleet Academy-sponsored events, let alone go out enough to, well, sow your wild oats around." Archer paused, his voice dropping to a concerned tone. "Do you need any help?"

Chris gave Archer a wan smile, and shook his head. "No, I'm doing alright. It was just all very sudden. He's an amazing kid, really smart. He's got a- I guess you would call it a birth defect, but it's only cosmetic. I think he'll do better among adults." Archer's eyes grew wide, and Chris squeezed his arm.

"A birth defect? Chris, that's really rare these days. Was his mom not taking care of him?" Archer said, coming to a stop at the entrance to the car park.

"Nothing to be done about it, there's no treatment. His mom was...she just couldn't take care of him anymore. He's pretty self-reliant, so I am staying positive about the whole affair." Chris walked into the car park, Archer at his heels. "He's eleven, before you ask again."

Archer sped up and walked beside Chris, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You would have been...25. You were stationed on the Wellington at that time for your practical in command training, where in the hell did you get time?"

Chris opened the door of his car, sliding into the driver's seat without looking up at Archer. "Come now, John, I wasn't a monk." Chris started the car, then looked back up at Archer, who was leaning against the side. "I'll talk to you later, alright? Maybe you can come to dinner sometime, you can meet him then."

Archer slapped the top of the car and took a step back, nodding. "Sounds like a plan, Chrissy." Archer smiled, and gave a casual salute. "Talk with you soon, Captain."

Chris smiled and returned the salute. "Of course, Admiral." He threw the car into drive and left Starfleet Command, trying to ignore the worried look of his older friend in the rear-view camera. Chris hated lying, but he hoped that John wouldn't focus on the fact that he barely gave a straight answer to any of his questions. He didn't think it would go over well with Starfleet to say that he had been given custody of James T. Kirk.

* * *

Jim had been surprisingly acquiescent about the whole affair, and as the time grew nearer to going back into the black, Chris had a growing sense of dread that the boy was going to snap. As his remaining shore leave dwindled to two weeks, Jim continued to be well-behaved and tolerant, even throughout medical tests. His changes had stabilized, and Chris was sure that the wings would grow with Jim as he did. At the two-month mark since picking Jim up, the tension that Chris had been happy pretending didn't exist sprung to the forefront in a glorious explosion, one that Chris was sure only a preteen could enact so perfectly.

"Jim, stay out of the guest bedroom, the security windows are malfunctioning." Chris announced loudly as he headed to the kitchen to scrounge up some lunch for the two of them. He didn't notice the sudden silence that had overtaken the upstairs after he spoke, but he did notice the sound of Jim flapping his wings lightly as he glided down to the bottom floor. "Jim, what do you want for lunch?"

"Am I that embarrassing to you?" Chris turned around to see Jim, his wings half-raised, with a deep scowl on his face. Chris was speechless, which gave Jim opportunity to continue. "Afraid someone is gonna see me? Mess up your career for taking care of the freak?" Jim's voice rose in volume as he spoke, and he spun around and kicked the kitchen doorjamb, which snapped Chris out of his shock.

"Jim, it's not about me. I thought we were doing this so you wouldn't be shipped off to a lab or something by your stepfather. Am I wrong?" Chris raised his hands, trying to calm the boy down.

Jim snarled and kicked the wall, sending a painting falling to the floor. "Well, it's not much different than here, is it? I've been stuck here for two months! I've almost never gone out, I have to wear this stupid corset thing if I do, and I never see anybody but you!" Jim rounded on Chris, wings spread as far as they would fit, and Chris felt a strong stab of guilt. Jim was right; Chris had all but confined him to the house since he had picked him up, and what kid wanted to be cooped up all day? Especially a kid like Jim, who had grown up in the wide-open spaces of Iowa farmland.

"Jim, look, I'm sorry. I'm new to this too. You have to tell me these things, otherwise I'm going to assume that you are doing okay." Chris moved closer to Jim, who looked like he was deciding whether to run or not. "Jim..."

"Shut up, just- shut up! Why do you even care, anyway? I hadn't seen you since mom got married to that bastard, yet suddenly you are right there when everything goes to shit! Why weren't you there for Tarsus? Why weren't you there to save dad's car? Why now!" Jim was close enough that Chris was getting a coating of his spit, but Chris stood his ground. "Why now, Captain!" Jim was screaming now, his eyes were dilated and his breath was coming in harsh gasps.

Chris's shoulders slumped, but he met Jim's eyes. "Jim, I didn't know. I've been on assignment, and I hadn't heard anything from your mother." It was not what Jim wanted to hear.

"You, you, shut up!" Chris didn't even see Jim's wing descending on him until it was too late; Chris was slammed hard into the cupboard doors, the force of the blow knocking the air out of him. Chris slumped to the ground and gasped for breath, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen. "C-Chris?" Jim's voice was whisper-quiet and weak, but Chris couldn't concentrate enough to raise his head to look at him. "Chris?" A shaking hand entered his vision, brushing his cheek. "Chris, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm just so tired of all of this, I-" Chris looked up to see Jim on his knees in front of him, his entire body shaking as he looked at Chris.

Chris coughed, and winced at a painful twinge that lanced through his back. He was going to feel it later, but it wasn't important now. Chris raised his arms, put his hands on the back of Jim's neck and shoulders, and pulled him until Jim's head was resting under his chin. Jim stiffened and started to push himself away, but Chris tightened his grip. Chris said nothing, and ran his fingers through the boy's hair until he felt the tension uncoil from the smaller body. Jim began to shudder, and Chris closed his eyes as the first sob erupted from the boy. He held Jim as he cried; he felt his own eyes stinging with unshed tears, but he held them back. After Chris's shirt was completely soaked through, Jim pulled himself back, and wiped at his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Chris gave a reassuring smile and patted Jim on the cheek. "I know." He ran his thumb across Jim's cheekbone, and Jim leaned his head against the large hand. "Why don't I get something together for us for lunch, and I'll tell you about an idea I just thought up for getting us outside." Jim nodded, and Chris pulled himself to his feet and tried to ignore the twinge that made itself known. Guilt flashed through Jim's face, and Chris chuckled. "If you want to apologize, think on ways of controlling that temper so we don't have to have a repeat of this result, hmm?"

Jim gave a subdued nod. "Yes sir."

Chris walked to the refrigerator and peered in. "Two questions, Jim. First, what would you like to eat, and secondly, would you like to meet an old friend of mine?"

* * *

Admiral Jonathan Archer was Jim's new favorite person by the end of dinner. John was naturally funny and charming, and the eleven-year old soaked it up like a sponge. Jim stuck perfectly to the agreed back-story, skirting around any probing questions with an ease that warned Chris to watch out for that in the future. After dinner, John convinced Chris to break out the guitar and sing a song or two, which shocked Jim.

"You sing?"

Chris laughed and pulled the instrument out of its case. "I try, anyway."

John snorted, waving his hand in Chris's direction. "That creature over there used to be kidnapped regularly by every music-based group back at Starfleet Academy, don't listen to a word he says."

"Thanks for the support, John." Chris deadpanned, as he tuned the guitar.

"That's what I'm here for, Chrissy."

Jim almost choked on his drink. "Chrissy?"

Chris glared at John. "Don't even think about it, kid."

John burst into laughter over Jim's responding 'awww,' and Chris quirked a smile.

"Any requests?" Chris said, as he plucked a few strings. Jim shook his head, and John waggled a finger.

"Thrill us, Chris."

Jim sat entranced as Chris broke into a lilting introduction on the guitar, his fingers danced down the strings as a mournful and defiant tone reverberated through the air. Chris shot a look at John as he played; the man had leaned back against the coffee table and closed his eyes, letting the music become his world; Chris began to sing about a minute and a half in, a song about a woman who was never happy with what her man did for her, and Chris felt his heart calm itself in its tones. He should have done this months ago, but he was too preoccupied in figuring out the technicalities of Jim's presence; Jim had been too busy trying to pretend he was unaffected by the drastic changes he had just suffered. Chris never thought he would be a father, but Jim deserved his best. Not just because he was the son of a good friend, but because Jim was Jim. The kid had clearly not had a good run of it so far, Chris would be damned if he would make it worse. He let the last words, "...how blue can you get?" sound in the air, and resolved that if this afternoon was the nadir of their relationship, he would make sure it didn't return.

The room was silent as the last notes of the song filled the room. John's eyes were still closed, and Chris looked over at Jim to see the boy's mouth hanging open. "You are going to attract flies, Jim."

Jim's mouth snapped closed, and he shot Chris a dirty look. "That was amazing! How come you've never done it before?" The accusation in his voice made Chris's heart ache, and he gave Jim a sad smile.

"I guess I've been too caught up with other things. I'll try to sing more often." Chris said, as John sat up and gave Chris a slap on the shoulder, then rose to his feet.

"You get better every time I hear you, old man." Archer groaned as he stretched his arms to the ceiling, and cracked his neck from side to side. "I'm afraid I need to get going, you two."

Jim stood up with a tiny pout on his face. "Already? You just got here!" The whine was childish and heartfelt, and Chris felt a small return of that earlier guilt.

John gave Jim a wide smile, and held out a hand. "I've got work, unfortunately. Enjoy your youth, Jim, soon enough you'll be stuck being grownup and boring with the rest of us."

Jim took the offered hand, and gave it a shake. "It was good to meet you, sir." Jim paused, and smirked. "You aren't boring, sir; and I'll never let myself become boring."

"I look forward to seeing you maintain that creed, Jim." John gave a cocky salute to the boy, who grinned and mirrored the action right back. John met Chris's eyes with a look that demanded a talk, and headed out of the room.

Chris looked over at Jim, who was trying to scratch his wings without being obvious, and put his guitar down. "I'm going to see the Admiral off. I'll be back in a few minutes." Chris left the house, and saw John leaning against the railing outside, a thoughtful look on his face. "It was good to have you over, John."

John looked at Chris, the earlier lighthearted amusement all but gone. "Jim is a great kid, Chris."

Chris nodded. "Yeah, he is."

"Pity he doesn't look a damn thing like you." John's voice was flat, and Chris struggled from reacting to it.

"He looks like his mother." Chris countered, letting his voice betray nothing. It wasn't exactly a lie.

John sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Chris, I'm not an idiot. Something is going on here, and you aren't telling me a damned thing."

Chris met John's gaze evenly, and after a long beat, John exhaled loudly and broke eye contact. "Damnit, Chris. I'm worried about you." Before Chris could react, John wrapped his arms around Chris's shoulders and brought him into an embrace. Chris let his eyes close and his chin rest on John's shoulder, John's hands soothing against his back. Chris felt John turn his head towards his, and he sighed. "Chris, just promise me that you'll be careful. I'll trust your judgement, whatever is going on." John placed a chaste kiss to the side of Chris's head, then withdrew.

"Thank you, Jonathan." Chris said, reaching out and squeezing John's shoulder.

"Well, time for me to head out. I ship out tomorrow on a diplomatic mission. Fun will abound, I'm sure." John's smile reappeared, and Chris answered it in kind. "Take care, both of you. I'll talk to you later, probably after you head back out." With a wave, he walked down the front steps and flagged down a cab. Chris waved, and John got into the cab and departed. Chris stood on the front step for a moment and breathed in the evening air, watching the path of the long-gone cab. With a distant smile, he reentered his house. When Jim ran up to him and demanded he sing another song, he swore to himself that he would make this work, for both of their sakes.

* * *

Jim had taken to the wilds of the Mojave Desert like a fish to water, and for the first time, he was able to truly try out his new wings. Chris watched the boy take flight in the open air, the very image of a child angel. He could not stay aloft for long periods, as his muscles were still adapting to the wings, but Jim's joy was infectious. For three days, Jim practiced flying, Chris sung every song he could think of, and taught Jim most of them. When Jim called him 'Dad' instead of 'Chris' on the way back to San Francisco, he couldn't keep the grin from overtaking his face.

Number One was more accepting of Jim's created history than John, and greeted them both aboard the Yorktown with a smile and a handshake for Jim, and a smirk and 'Welcome back, sir. I see you've been busy,' but no other questions. The Yorktown set off on its next mission, and Captain Christopher Pike set off on the one task he had been certain he would never have to face. Fatherhood.

* * *

Continued in _Where men can't walk_

* * *

There were 4 musical references, including the title. See if you spotted them all! :D

To see a sketch based on a scene from the story, go to my Deviantart account linked in my profile. :)

Thanks for reading


	2. Where men can't walk

A shout out to my wonderful beta** welovethelegend**, as she is amazing wrapped in awesome. :D

* * *

**Some notes before you read:**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just having a little fun with them. :)**

Actual Summary: Where Jim is _not lonely_, he _likes_ the peace and quiet of the desert, and he wishes _certain_ people would just shut up about it already.

In this story:

Jim - 16  
Chris Pike - 41  
Winona Kirk - 45  
Jonathan Archer - 52

* * *

**Where men can't walk**

Jim looked up from the PADD he was reading to check the oven timer, his long hair falling into his eyes. He needed a haircut. He set his reading down and rose to his feet to see if his dinner was done. If anyone had told him that he would be relaxing in a house in the middle of the fucking desert baking casseroles even a year ago, he would have laughed in their face.

It wasn't lame to have discovered that casseroles reheated well and could be stretched over several days. It was efficient. Cleared up time for other things. Never mind he was ahead on all of his class work and the house was in good order. Jim still didn't know how his Dad knew about these things. He leaves the kitchen messy for a few days, and suddenly during their bi-weekly talk he gets told to clean the kitchen. John told him that it was parental instinct, knowing when the kids weren't doing what they were supposed to. John had laughed at the end of that talk and had told him about a few similar events from his childhood. Jim had thought he was mental. Mom had been gone so often, she never knew what was going on; Frank couldn't have cared less, he would have happily left Jim on Tarsus if it wouldn't have gotten him kicked out of his mother's house. Only since Chris had taken him in did he feel like he had a parent who really cared.

It was all ancient history now, thanks to Chris. Jim eased the casserole out of the oven and set it on the counter, closing the oven door with his hip. He had class tomorrow, even if it was done as a vid conference, and he needed to make sure he was prepared. Jim had long gotten used to the odd invention that he and Dad had put together to keep his wings as flat as possible while hiding them, but he didn't want to be rushing to get into it right before the class was scheduled to begin. He had considered going to school in Mojave, but he thought it would be too risky. Dad had left it up to him, but Jim could tell that he had been concerned as well. The Yorktown was scheduled to go on a three year mission in four months, he would socialize then. Cutting a piece from the casserole, he balanced the loaded plate on one hand as he picked his PADD back up and sashayed through the kitchen door, falling into the first chair he came across. Just as he was taking his first bite of cheese and pasta, the computer console dinged, signaling an incoming call. Jim didn't move, and stuffed another forkful of tuna casserole into his mouth. After several more dings, the console alerted that the call was connected, and Jim grinned.

"Couldn't get up and answer the thing before it auto-answered, could you?" Chris's voice came through, and Jim chuckled.

"Of course not, you wouldn't know what to do if I actually put in the effort," Jim said, the sound garbled through a bite of dinner, and a groan came from the console.

"I was about to ask you to activate the video feed, but I could do without watching a teenager shovel food into his mouth." Jim could tell by his tone that Chris's eyebrows were crawling up his forehead, and he leaned over and hit the button to turn on the video. Jim was right. "Thank you. I think. Jim, that's disgusting. Close your mouth while you chew."

Jim left his mouth open for a moment, earning an extended _look_ from Chris, before shutting it and swallowing. "Hi Dad! How was your day? We talked yesterday, yeah? I wasn't expecting you to call again this soon." Jim's voice was pure sunshine, and Chris sighed, leaning back in his chair. Jim noted the sigh, the grin falling off his face. "What's going on?"

Chris gave Jim a half-smile. "Starfleet has issued extra orders, Jim. I won't be back for another month. I have to go to Andoria for a few weeks after the current mission is wrapped up." Chris looked apologetic, and Jim bit back a snarky retort. He wasn't a kid anymore, he could deal with it. His opinion on the matter must have shown on his face, though, because Chris's expression turned into concern. "Jim, I know. I didn't want to be gone any longer either. Are you having any problems? I can authorize more credits for you if you need them."

Jim shook his head. "No, I've got plenty to pay for food and stuff. I guess I just miss having you around, old man." Jim smirked at Chris, who rolled his eyes.

"Why don't you go into town more, Jim? It'll get you out of the house, and maybe you can meet some people. It'll be good for you." Jim's expression soured as Chris spoke, and he took another bite of his dinner. Jim was chewing angrily when Chris started again. "It's not healthy to isolate yourself so much, Jim."

"We'll be back on the Yorktown in a few months, and I talk to you and John a lot. I have classes too; it's not just me in those. I'm fine, Dad." Jim continued eating, and for a long moment there was silence from the other end of the line.

"Have you been talking to your mother?" Chris's head was cocked slightly to the side when Jim looked up, and Jim gave a short nod.

"Yeah, usual schedule. Same old shit, nothing new." At Chris's sharp look, Jim's voice dropped to a mumble. "Sorry. She's goin' back up soon, on the...Wellington, I think. She'll be gone for two years."

Chris nodded. "I spent six months on the Wellington when I was finishing command training. It's a good ship."

"Yeah, I'm sure. At least we'll have something to talk about," Jim muttered, as he pushed the last few bites of the casserole around his plate.

"Jim." Jim continued staring at his plate. "Jim, look at me."

Jim's head remained down. "What?" His response was flat, and he heard Chris sigh.

"Jim, I know it isn't always easy to talk to her. But I wouldn't push it if I didn't think it was important." Jim looked up at that, his eyes meeting Chris's over the vid screen. When his dad gave him a sad smile, Jim relaxed his expression. "I don't doubt that she loves you, Jim; I just think she doesn't know how to connect with you."

Jim returned Chris's sad look, shaking his head. "She never has." Jim's eyes focused on the gray appearing at Chris's temples. It hadn't been there two years ago, and he had once thought in a moment of guilt after a pointless argument that every one of those light hairs was his fault.

"Jimmy, stop staring at my hair. I feel like I'm going to wake up completely gray when you do that." Chris ran a hand through his hair, the barely contained curls fluffing a bit as he did so. Jim pouted, an over the top pursing of the lips that made Chris bite back a laugh. "What in the world is that for?"

"Nuthin'." Jim held the pout for a moment longer, until his mouth felt like it was going to cramp from the pose; Chris was smiling serenely on the screen, and Jim let his mouth relax with a snort.

"The men of my family gray early along the temples, Jim; I've told you this before." Chris paused, and rolled his eyes. "That was a very skilled reroute of the conversation, by the way." Chris steepled his hands, the long fingers elegant as he rested his chin against his index fingers. "Do you have any plans besides class tomorrow?"

Jim stabbed the last few noodles off his plate and stuffed them into his mouth, letting himself think for a moment. "Nothing special. Maybe practice some music, go flying for a bit...I don't know. I'll figure it out after school is over," Jim said through his chewing, earning one final look of disgust from his father.

Chris angled his head. "Sounds good. Make sure you have the proximity alarm alerter with you if you go out." It was the same warning as always. Jim nodded.

"Yes sir."

Chris lightly smacked his palms on the table where his console sat, and gave Jim a smile. "Alright Jim, I've got to go do 'captainy things' now, as you like to put it. I'll call you at the usual time. Call me or John if you have any problems, don't blow up the kitchen again-"

"It was only the one time!" Jim whined.

"-and try not to break anything with your wings. I've already had to pack up most of my fragile belongings," Chris said, his smile turning into a wry smirk that Jim bristled at.

"It was only...a few times! Yeesh. And you tell me this every time, Dad." Jim said, scratching at his ear.

"I think John referred to it as 'fatherly duties' yes? I'd prefer not to get a communication from the Mojave police informing me that you've managed to recreate the aftermath of the Eugenics Wars at my house...by yourself." Chris said, his smirk deepening further.

"That would take more effort then I'd ever be willing to expend, Dad. You know this." Jim made a tut-tut sound, and shook his head. Chris snorted.

"Alright, you reprobate, I really need to go. Talk to you later, kiddo." Chris rose to his feet and stepped away from the console, and Jim waved.

"Bye Dad; don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Jim grinned; Chris rolled his eyes.

"I don't think I'll have a problem with that." Chris gave a short wave, and then the line disconnected.

Jim sat back in his chair for a moment, his eyes closed. "Well, shit." He mumbled, exhaling through loose lips. He shook his head, causing the blond strands to flutter around and tickle his cheeks. He really needed a haircut. Rising to his feet, he picked up his dishes and headed back into the kitchen; he quickly piled all the dirty dishes in the sink, filled the pot with water, and left. He would wash them later.

Jim headed to the front door, grabbing a small handset on the way. He scanned the handset and a small screen recessed into the wall next to the door. No alerts from the proximity sensors, and nothing on the exterior cameras. Stuffing the alerter in his pocket, Jim threw open the door and stepped out; the rapidly cooling early evening air bit into his skin, and he curled his wings around his front like an feathered cloak. Hitting the lock on the door, he walked away from the house, the sand and loose gravel crunching under his feet as he turned towards the deeper recesses of the canyon. The Bristol Mountains were one of the most isolated places in California, Chris had told him, and Jim agreed. The house had been custom-built, hidden in a canyon; the area was so remote that water had to be sent in by delivery due to the complete lack of groundwater and springs. The land had been in the Pike family for centuries, used only for camping trips until Chris decided to do something with it. Chris thought that the Mojave was the most amazing place in the world; that had been clear to Jim from that very first trip only a few months after he moved in. It was equally clear that the jury was still out for John, however, who had grumbled about the crazy temperature fluctuations and the endless sand and dirt, but even he couldn't deny one very important thing about the place.

Jim unfurled his wings from his shoulders, executing a slow flap that caused the dust to stir around his feet, but did not move him in the slightest. The winds were good, as they usually were; the Santa Anas and the trade winds had kept the wind farms in business here in the desert for hundreds of years, that same power made his job easier. Jim flapped his wings again, more forcefully this time; he continued flapping them as he took off at a run, the red-gray dirt trailing behind in his wake. He had discovered very quickly that the hardest part was taking off, and he had broken several bones in the past to prove it.

The air rushed past his face, and Jim stretched his wings out to their fullest extent, the white-gold feathers catching the light from above in a display that would have been blinding had there been anything observing him; with a great sweep of his wings he leapt into the air, the large feathers catching the wind. He was aloft immediately, and Jim soared to the upper heights of the mountain within minutes, watching other birds move out of his way as he climbed in altitude. The Bristol range was actually rather short, less than fifteen-hundred meters at its zenith, and as he crested the peaks, the sky exploded into existence; the upper-level winds beating at his control as he searched for a stable air current. Jim glided around, allowing the wind to move him. He would never get enough of this, this feeling of complete weightlessness as he circled the moonscape of his little portion of the Mojave. Feeling the air calm somewhat, he maneuvered his body into a near standing position and faced the west.

There was a line from an old song that had always came to Jim's mind here, "Looks like a painting, that blue skyline," and as Jim stared at the magnificent show that was a Mojave sunset, streaks of brilliant orange and yellow arcing in a massive zigzag pattern that looked as if a painter had composed it with violent strokes across the darkening sky, better than anything he had ever seen in Iowa, Jim agreed with every statement his dad had ever said about the desert. He could stay up here forever, gliding on the currents and watching the fire-lit sky dissolve into night. Even John had admitted that it was spectacular, and he and Chris had gotten their crowning view from a shuttle, not free-floating. Jim's face suddenly lit up in a brilliant smile. He wanted to take Chris up here, to show him his beloved view the way he saw it. It was impossible right now, for all of his bodily adaptations to allow for sustained flight, none of them allowed for a teen-aged boy to pick up and ascend with a grown man who had ten centimeters and twenty kilos on him. He could glide gently down with Chris, if it ever was needed, but no flying him straight up yet. Jim ran a hand through his hair, a feeble attempt to control it failing miserably in the face of the winds that surrounded him. Someday.

Jim was so focused on the sky, now faded to dark blues and purples that obscured the view of the land below that he did not hear the buzzing coming from his pocket at first; nothing would break the spell for him. But the noise was persistent, and Jim dropped fifty meters in his distraction before he wrestled it out of his pants. The furthest sensor had been triggered, the one at the turnoff to the only road to the house; Jim pitched his back backwards at an angle that would look painful to most people and took towards the canyon with frightening speed. Jim made an irritated noise at the back of his throat, the sound lost to the rushing wind as he plummeted towards the ground. He had forgotten all about the water delivery; he needed to get back to the house and get his public outfit on before they got there.

The sides of the mountain flew past, and about a hundred meters before the canyon floor he pulled up; slowing his descent as he allowed himself to side-slip back and forth, before angling into a wide spiral. Landing with a pained grunt, he ran down to the house and rushed in, running to his room and forcing his wings into the apparatus that flattened them out as much as possible. Wincing as he tightened the straps, he put on the first regular shirt he found, and made sure the ends of his wings were tucked into his jeans. Jim really hoped it was the two men today. When the two women came, they treated him nicely enough to his face, but when they thought he couldn't hear, one of them would mutter how it was such a shame that such a pretty face was being wasted on that 'misshapen' body. The first time he had heard that, albeit in a much more vulgar form, years ago from a craggy-faced Lieutenant on the Yorktown, he had almost ripped off his disguise in anger, and he didn't want to think about the evening after. Luckily, Number One had also overheard the remark, and the tongue lashing the officer received was so severe that he had requested a transfer within a month. Amazing what a month of Gamma shift will do to a man, Jim remembered hearing Number One say to Chris. Jim learned to never mess with the lady that day, but he hadn't considered doing so anyway; she was too cool for that. It had taken him awhile to realize that the entire ship had gotten the hint at the same time; he never heard a remark of that severity ever again on board his dad's ship. His control had gotten better since then; it had to, or the shit would have hit the fan years ago, but it still hurt.

Jim was distracted from his thoughts by the doorbell, and with a final glance and twirl in the mirror, he headed down to answer it. It was the two men today. Jim smiled, answered their polite inquiries about Chris (Jim had figured out early that having been the youngest ever Captain in Starfleet, even if he wasn't the youngest anymore, carried a decent amount of notoriety) and watched them as they filled the water tank. His wings ached under his clothes, they always did if he had to bind them so swiftly after a flight; Jim struggled to keep a pleasant look on his face while the men worked.

After the deliverymen left, he headed back inside and went to his bedroom, flinging off his shirt and fighting out of the harness as he fell onto his bed. His wings freed, Jim kicked off his shoes and pants and closed his eyes, sighing in relief as the pain waned.

"I gotta do the dishes." Jim mumbled into his pillow, but the siren song of sleep was too hard to resist, and he was asleep within minutes.

Jim found that it was a good thing that he was in distance schooling. At most traditional schools, he would have been expected to have the same or a similar curriculum to everyone else, which would have bored him to death. Through this distance program, however, he had been allowed to test into university-level courses early, and he had excelled at them, much to Chris's delight. Jim smiled as he remembered when the placement results had come back. Chris had ruffled his hair and given him a thoughtful look; when Jim had asked him what the look was for; Chris had answered with "You make it hard for me to call you a bird-brain, Jimmy. How am I supposed to find another completely clichéd thing to call you?"

Not that it ever stopped him.

The professor was lecturing about something called Clovis points, and Jim was wondering why he would ever need to know this stuff when the professor called out, jarring him from his musing.

"Mr. Pike, can you inform the class where the first examples of the Clovis point form were discovered?" The professor said, managing to give Jim a sharp look even over a group vid conference.

Busted. Jim blinked, staring into a spot above the monitor for a moment. He had just read this, what was it again-

"Mr. Pike?"

Clovis. Clovis was the name of some Merovingian Kings. Wait, that was Clo-vee, not Clo-vis. Clovis, Clovis- wait. "New Mexico, sir." The professor arched an eyebrow, but nodded.

"That's correct, Mr. Pike. Now, it was quickly uncovered that the range of the discoveries reached far beyond New Mexico-" The professor said, immediately launching into the next part of the lecture. Jim shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. This was going to be a long day.

Hours later, he bid farewell to his Physics instructor and ended the transmission, bringing his arms over his head and stretched, his spine making popping noises as he did so. Time to go free-range. Jim rose to his feet, and had gotten his shirt almost over his head when he heard the distinctive ding of an incoming call. Jim quickly reversed his motions and yanked the shirt back down, and stared at the incoming ID. After another pull on the bottom hem of his shirt, and a collar check along the back of his neck, Jim hit the answer button.

"Took you long enough, Jim."

Jim snorted. "You know, John, Dad said almost the same exact thing yesterday. Are you sure you two aren't married yet?" Jim said, giving the older man a smirk.

"No, that just means that you take too long to pick up the call, you lazy brat." John chuckled. "How are you doing, Jimmy? Kitchen still intact?"

Jim growled at the screen, causing John to laugh. "That was one time! Shit, you guys are never gonna let me forget that, are you?"

John pursed his lips, the furrows on the sides of his mouth deepening as he tipped his head minutely from side to side. "Hmmmmmm- no. Definitely not." John tapped his index finger against his lips. "I'll be sure to bring it up at the best of times, maybe at your wedding or at some other socially significant event."

"Has anyone ever told you that you can be a real jackass, John?" Jim said, his face set into a pout.

John grinned, the light wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. "Oh, frequently. I'm pretty sure that even T'Pol called me that once, although I've never mastered Vulcan swearing."

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Really?"

John hummed, and shook his head. "Who knows. I'm pretty sure that Vulcans have four-hundred different words for 'illogical,' though. It was probably one of those." John leaned over out of view, and Jim chuckled as a snuffling dog was brought up into view.

"Hi Porthos," Jim said, laughing as the beagle wiggled out of John's arms and licked the monitor. John immediately pulled the dog back with a grimace, and Porthos disappeared out of view.

"That's disgusting, Porthos. I'm sure Jim wanted to see your drool, you crazy dog." John grabbed a tissue and wiped at the screen. Jim used his distraction to scratch under the back of his shirt, his fingers digging into the thin flesh underneath his feathers. He really wanted to take the harness off, but John couldn't know. Chris had never set boundaries over it, but they had managed to make it over five years with no one else finding out, so Jim was determined to keep it that way. Chris pretended it wouldn't be an issue, but Jim was worried for his position. Chris had given up what seemed like everything for him, and Jim was sure that Starfleet wouldn't take one of their most illustrious captains hiding what they were pretty sure was the only Homo Sapiens Superior in existence lightly, and John would be obligated to report it if he found out. Jim was certain of it. Talk about a misleading label. He didn't think he was any better than anyone else. He had been forced to learn how to sew because of it!

"How lame is that?" Jim mumbled under his breath, and John made a confused sound.

"Say again?" John said, body leaning at an odd angle. Jim jumped in his seat, yanking his scratching hand back into his lap.

Jim shook his head. "Sorry, just zoned out." Jim's left index finger felt weird, and he looked down to see a gold barb from one of his feathers caught under the fingernail; with a quick pinch, he had extricated it and flicked it to the floor.

"Hey, Jimmy, you all right? You seem distracted," John said, his smile changing to a look of concern. Jim cursed mentally, and waved his right hand loosely.

"I'm fine, John. Just tired. You called right after school had finished." Jim gave John a tired smile, and John nodded.

"Sorry about that, kiddo, I forgot all about that." A voice came through from what sounded like far away; John held up a finger, and leaned out of frame. Jim heard him call to Ms. Nakashima, his secretary, in response. Jim checked his hands for barbs during the pause. That had been sloppy. John reappeared, scratching at his forehead. "Sorry again, Jimmy. Say, have you talked with that dad of yours in the last few days?"

Jim made a short humming noise, and gave a quick nod. "Yeah, I talked to him yesterday. I suppose that's the reason for the sudden call?" Jim said, letting his lip curl slightly.

John chuckled, then huffed. "Not the only reason, but it was definitely a major reason. Everything going okay out there in Death Valley? I still think Chris is crazy building a house in the middle of nowhere out there, but well, no accounting for taste." John said, as he took a sip out of a coffee cup.

Jim laughed, and jumped to Chris's aid. "Well, I think Dad referred to you as the coddled New York boy; there isn't even any deserts up in the Northeast, is there? You just don't know how to appreciate the wide-open expanses of the Mojave." Jim nodded slowly, a serious look on his face. John barked out a laugh, and took another drink out of his mug.

"It's too late for you, I see. That creature you call your dad with sand in his brain is a horrible influence, and I should have rescued you before he had a chance to lure you out there," John said, and tilted his head back to down the rest of his drink.

"I don't think water polo is my thing, John," Jim countered. John snorted in response.

"You definitely aren't a fan of water. I've never been able to get you into a pool, even when you guys were up here in San Francisco. You can leave your shirt on, Jimmy. No one will care; you'll be too busy amazing them with clever repartee."

"Are we talking about the same person?" Jim looked amused, and John sighed.

"Don't you start getting all damned insecure on me, Jimmy. I don't think my old heart can take it." John paused. "Practiced any new songs lately?"

Jim thought for a moment, and John got up and walked out of view with his coffee cup. When he sat back down, Jim spoke. "Just messing around, mostly. I've even tried some of the stuff by that guy you keep mentioning, even if I don't think I sound like him." Jim waved a hand, and John chuckled.

"You sound uncannily like him when you sing, at least right now. Your voice may roughen up a bit when you get a bit older, but for now, don't bother denying it. All you are missing is the quirky accent he seemed to sometimes have." John smiled at Jim, and Jim returned a pout.

"But most of his stuff is so lame! If he didn't have a thing for singing about being high a lot, I think he would be the most boring singer ever," Jim said, picking at a piece of lint on his shirt.

John shook his head, and gave a soft smile. "Your opinion will change when you get older. I guarantee it." Jim shot him a sceptical look, and John met his eyes. "I really think so. I wasn't a fan of that kind of music when I was young, but I have a soft spot for it now. There is something special about a smooth voice singing about simple things, Jimmy." John saluted Jim with his mug, as Jim sat back in his chair.

"Yeah, I guess," Jim mumbled, and John laughed.

"That's teenager for "you're full of shit, old man." Don't think I don't know it." John grinned over his mug. "I was a teenager once upon a time myself, you know."

"What, a century ago?" Jim said, his lips forming into a little smile.

"That's more like it, you tow-headed brat. You seem subdued today; I was beginning to wonder if I needed to alert the bomb squad to protect the poor defenseless mountain you happen to live on." John finished his new cup of coffee in an extended swallow, and Jim grimaced.

"How much of that have you had? It's already past sixteen-hundred."

"Trying to regulate my caffeine intake? Don't bother, Jimmy; even Tory can't stop me, though she's tried more than once." John looked into his cup, and Jim laughed.

"Admiral Archer, the caffeine addict! Don't let him out of Starfleet Command without a bag of coffee beans-" Jim sing-songed and John pretended to throw the cup at the screen. "Careful, you might need that."

John set the coffee cup down and looked at the screen, his expression soft. "Jimmy, I need to get going in a minute, but I want you to promise me something, alright? If you need any help or anything, let me know. You can even come up and stay with me if you want; you spending months all by yourself isn't probably the best thing in the world."

This again. Jim's expression flattened a bit, but he forced himself to keep his voice light. "I'm fine, John, as I told Dad yesterday. I'm not a little kid anymore." Jim watched John's eyes narrow slightly, and Jim sighed. "Really, John. Yeah, it can get a little boring sometimes, but I don't feel like dealing with people that much. I like exploring around here, anyway; always lots of things to do." Jim paused, and smiled, but John's expression was still worried. "Did I tell you I went over to the Amboy Crater? It's really cool, even though it's mostly black because of the lava, there are these big white sections on the crater floor. It's a long walk to get down there, though. I was there for hours," Jim rambled, making motions with his hands. "Not a lot of tourists around here anymore, though. I guess space is more interesting."

John gave a slight smile, and nodded. "You'll have to tell me more about it next time we talk, Jimmy. Sounds interesting." Jim nodded, and John continued. "Have the Mojave authorities had any luck catching those poachers you told me about last time?"

Jim shook his head. "No, it's still in the news. The guys are real idiots, though. What did Dad say-" Jim paused, scratching at his neck. "Oh yeah! We were talking about how they've been shooting San Berdoo Kangaroo Rats for some odd reason along with other animals, but because these assholes are using old-school laser rifles and guns, all they've been doing is blowing the poor things up. What are they using them for, target practice?" Jim said, and John gave a dry laugh.

"Probably. Sounds like just some locals out for some kicks, though. The serious poacher has proper black-market modern phasers, not relics from the Eugenics Wars. Laser weapons burn holes instead of stun, and that brings the value of the animal down. I hope they get caught, but I'm glad that your area really doesn't have any animals that are appealing to the career poacher. Those bastards are far more dangerous," John said, his expression serious, and Jim nodded.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Well, the news loves talking more about dumb shit like what local celebrity is screwing who than worrying about some desert animals; at this rate they'll never get caught," Jim said, his mouth twisted in disgust. John laughed.

"Human nature, Jimmy. Watch old news vids from the last few hundred years, and you'll see that it was the same exact thing," John said, just as Ms. Nakashima's voice announced that his seventeen-hundred was here. John groaned. "Back to work. Well, Jimmy, just remember what I said. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Yessir." Jim nodded at John, and he watched the older man's eyes light up with a smile. "Have fun admiralling!" Jim raised a hand in farewell, which was responded in kind from John as the connection was closed. Jim sagged in his seat. Both Chris and John were worrywarts. He was doing just fine; he liked the quiet. Getting to his feet, he tripped over a PADD that had slipped to the floor, and kicked it out of the way with a snarl. He didn't feel like music right now.

As he took to the dry evening sky, the sunset was as beautiful as ever; but if Jim was more interested in trying to tire himself out, he would never admit to it. And if he stayed out far too late, it certainly wasn't because Chris wasn't there to tell him to come back down.

* * *

The next week passed quickly for Jim. He spoke with Chris twice more, and John again near the end of the week. He even spoke with his mother once, but it was as awkward a talk as it ever was; Jim had gone out for another long flight after that. Classes went just fine, even if Jim still didn't know what he would ever need half of this stuff for.

The food supply at the house finally reached critical levels about two and a half weeks before Chris was scheduled to be back, and Jim reluctantly got ready for a field trip to Mojave. Tightening his wing harness as far as it would go and ignoring the straining ache of his wing bones, Jim put on a pair of scuffed jeans and an oversized leather jacket, then headed out to the side of the house. He pulled the tarp off a large lump, revealing a slightly dusty motorcycle that looked almost as old as the car he had crashed years ago. Chris had informed him the first time he had been allowed to ride it that if he tried to reenact that stunt, he would be locked in a room and forced to watch old episodes of an old child's vid series called Barney and Friends until he went insane.

Jim had laughed until he had looked up what the show was. Then he realized how sadistic his Dad could be. When he asked him why he had picked that show, Chris's ears and nape had gone a rather amusing shade of burgundy, and he muttered something about a bet with George and Robert going horribly wrong before making a swift exit from the room. Jim never got anything else out of him about it, although he was positive that 'George' was his father. He liked thinking of his father as a prankster; it kept the omnipresent looming shadow of his father the Famous Dead Hero at bay.

Straddling the bike, Jim gave it a few jumps on the starter before the thing came to life, immediately surrounding him with a cloud of fine dust. He took off down the mountain, eyeing the locations of the concealed proximity sensors as he went past. Chris had set them up far beyond the range of his actual property for Jim's sake, even if it wasn't exactly legal, and it was always good to make sure they were operating normally. He reached the turn onto the main road, which had been paved so long ago that the desert winds had turned most of the asphalt to broken gravel. In an outdoorsy mood one day, he had taken some PADDs of study material and flown up to a nice shady niche he had found previously in the mountain that faced the road. Only three vehicles had passed by for the almost ten hours he was up there. Definitely not a high-traffic area, which is why it was ideal for your average bird-boy to hide away from the world. Jim smiled as he looked back up the dirt path to the house, then made sure his appearance was in order before taking off down towards Mojave.

Thirty minutes later found him cruising down the main drag of the strange town. The modern town of Mojave had been created as an early test of terraforming out of an area with a name that sounds as alien now as it did then, leaving the area resembling the farmlands of the Central Valley. It was a jarring transition, and Jim never got used to it. One minute he was speeding along brush-lined roads, the next he was surrounded by green grass and ranch land, making him look like a slob with the desert clinging to him. Chris had told him that the only thing he really missed from Mojave was the ability to keep horses, but his mother still maintained the ranch on the outskirts of the oasis town. Mrs. Pike-Thornton knew Jim was at Chris's house, but Jim had no intention of visiting. The woman was polite enough, but she had taken their cover story and drawn the entirely wrong conclusions. She had taken one look at him and had declared that he looked nothing like Chris, which was completely true; but after hearing their cover story of his mother dropping him off and vanishing, she had argued with Chris about how the woman was taking advantage of him, dumping a crippled child she had with another man on his doorstep and claiming it was his. Which Jim clearly wasn't, _and are you trying to ruin your career, Christopher?_

Jim wasn't supposed to have heard that discussion. They had visited right before they had left to return to San Francisco back before he had gone on the Yorktown for the first time, and there was a reason they had only stopped by once since. Chris had argued right back, and had taken great exception in her calling Jim 'crippled', much to Jim's relief. It had really driven home his worry over Chris's position, however, and he had sworn to himself that day that he would not get Chris in trouble by being an idiot. He had managed to keep that promise. Mostly.

There were two major grocery stores in town, and Jim chose the one the furthest away from the Pike homestead. Saved on awkward meetings in the middle of the bread aisle. Pulling into the parking lot, he brought the bike to a halt, hit the kickstand, and dismounted. A small girl about three parking spots down was staring at him, but her mother quickly pulled her into their car. Jim closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, then walked into the store, ignoring everyone else around him. Grabbing a shopping cart, he pushed the hovering contraption over to the produce department and got to work.

After thirty minutes of receiving the usual combination of polite greetings, stares, and even a hostile glare or two as he shopped, he was approached by a teen-aged boy with dark slicked back hair and a nasty sneer on his face. Jim threw several boxes of pasta into the cart just as the boy pushed it to the side. Jim sighed. "What do you want, Falco?" He said, as Falco stopped well into his personal space, sneer twisting into a look of disgust as he gave Jim a once-over.

"Thought I told you that you weren't welcome here, Pike," Falco said, stabbing a finger into Jim's clavicle. Jim gave him a flat look, and held his ground.

"I think I told you last time that your orders mean nothing to me, Falco. You really need new material, man. The whole "you aren't welcome" bit was old in the twentieth century," Jim said, as he reached over the boy's head and grabbed some pasta sauce, putting it into his cart. Falco's face contorted into an ugly expression, and he moved to block Jim from moving further; now so close that their chests were touching. Jim snorted. "You aren't my type, Falco."

"Who the hell would ever want to fuck you, you freak!" Falco gave Jim a hard shove, knocking him into the dry pasta display and sending a collection of packages to the ground. Jim kept his footing, but stayed back.

"What the fuck is your problem! I wasn't bothering you!" Jim growled through clenched teeth, ignoring the protests that had arisen from his back and wings. The taller boy lunged forward and shoved him again, causing the entire shelving unit to wobble ominously. Jim heard a shout from the next aisle over, and closed his eyes in frustration. Ten more minutes and he would have been out of here, but this moron had to cause trouble again.

"What the world is going on here?" A gravel-voiced store clerk Jim didn't recognize appeared at the end of the aisle, and after a quick glance at the mess and the two of them, turned her glare on him. Figures. Falco smirked and stepped away from him as the middle-aged woman walked up to his abandoned cart, looking between him and the overflowing container. "What do you think you are doing, young man? Going to fill this up and ditch it? Think it's funny to make us work, don't you? Well, I'm having none of that! I'm calling the police and having you taken in for causing a public disturbance." The woman spoke at a million kilometers an hour; Jim realized belatedly that he probably looked like an idiot with his mouth hanging open. Falco was trying not to laugh, and Jim shot him a dirty look before turning his attention to the clerk.

"Ma'am, I'm shopping, I only come into town every other month for groceries, that's why the cart is so full-" Jim started, but the woman cut him off.

"Where do you live that you only 'come into town' occasionally? You are only what, seventeen? Don't give me that. I'm not an idiot; I'll not have you speaking to me like one." The clerk's hand was actually hovering near the side of his head, and Jim realized with a bemused horror that she appeared to be thinking of grabbing his ear. The hand moved in; Jim closed his eyes involuntarily. But after a moment of no contact, Jim let them open again, to see a hand wrapped around the woman's wrist.

"You know, Bonnie, if you had actually let Mr. Pike speak, and had noticed that Falco was clearly up to his old tricks again, you wouldn't be sounding like...something right now." Jim looked up to see the face of Mr. Isley, the store owner, and felt the tension that had sprung to life in his shoulders seep away. He glanced over at Falco, who muttered a denial before making himself scarce, and looked back at Bonnie the clerk, whose face had gone a peculiar shade of purple.

"Mr. Isley! This boy is clearly pulling pranks and causing problems! Look at the mess, and his cart! There's no way that is his real shopping!" The woman babbled, and Jim watched Mr. Isley roll his eyes.

"Bonnie, Mr. Pike comes in about every other month to purchase groceries. I charge the bill to his father's account, and I deliver the order. It has been like that for almost eight months now. And almost every time, Falco or one of his cronies tries to start trouble with him, and I have to kick them out of the store. Have you not been here for any of these occasions?" Mr. Isley looked at his employee, who had stopped talking and was so red that Jim was a tiny bit afraid that she was going to stroke on the spot. When the older man winked at him over the clerk's head, he barely held back a smile.

"Pike? As in Captain Pike? That fellow the local news always talks about?" Bonnie was looking at Jim now as if she could drill into him to find out what she wanted, and being incredibly unsubtle about gawking at his 'hump'. Her total obviousness was almost refreshing. Almost. Jim leaned over and began picking up the fallen pasta packages, putting them back on their shelves; Mr. Isley started doing the same.

"How is your father doing, Jim? The blurbs on the local news vids are usually pretty vague, so we don't hear much. Last I heard he was finishing up a diplomatic mission on the Tellerite home world?" Mr. Isley said, and Jim noted with amusement that Bonnie the clerk had stayed to listen to them talk.

Jim nodded. "That's actually all done. He's doing a short trip to Andoria for a bit, then he'll be back. He was delayed longer than he thought he would be." Putting the last bag of pasta back on the shelf, Jim straightened and adjusted his clothes.

"How goes the desert? I still think the Captain was crazy to build a house in the middle of nowhere in the Bristols, but hey, whatever works for him, right?" Mr. Isley said. Jim laughed in response.

"It's good, like always."

Mr. Isley nodded, motioning to Jim's shopping cart. "Good to hear, Jim. Let's get you finished up before anyone else tries to interrupt you." With the owner by his side, Jim finished up his shopping quickly, and picked out the items he wanted to carry back with him from the rest. Mr. Isley took the rest, and promised him it would be at his door by tomorrow afternoon. As they were walking out of the store, Mr. Isley gave Jim a quick clap on the shoulder. "Sorry about Bonnie, Jim. She's only lived in town for about a year now, and she's not exactly the shiniest hull plating on the shuttle, if you get my drift. I'm not fond of her habit of jumping to badly thought-out conclusions, but she does her job. You won't have to deal with her again like that, though; the woman never forgets a face. If you bring the Captain with you next time, you'll probably be helping him peel her off his leg," Mr Isley said quietly, chuckling at the end.

Jim grimaced at the mental image. "That's gross, Mr. Isley. I didn't need that in my head." They reached Jim's motorcycle in the parking lot, only to notice that Falco was resting against a car across from the bike, and Mr. Isley frowned.

"Falco, get out of here before I have you taken in for loitering, and leave Mr. Pike alone. He's never done anything to you," Mr. Isley said, and Falco spit on the ground in reply.

"You just coddle him because of who his Dad is, Isley. You think he's a freak like the rest of us, you just won't admit it." Falco spat one more time in Jim's direction before swaggering off. Mr. Isley shook his head and looked at Jim, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Unless a miracle happens, the only place Falco is ever going to go is the inside of a prison cell. I hope you don't listen to him, Jim. I respect your father very much, but you have shown yourself to be a fine young man. The Captain would have never let you stay there in that house alone if he didn't think so," Mr. Isley said, and Jim gave the man a thin smile. "Well now, have a good trip home, Mr. Pike. Be sure to bring the Captain with you next time!" Jim gave the man a half-wave as he settled on his bike, and with a final nod, set off.

Luckily, Falco appeared to have given up for now, and Jim left town without any more issues. Mr. Isley was nice enough, if a little clingy. According to Chris, he had been a few years behind him in high school, had had a serious hero crush on him after he got accepted into Starfleet Academy, and it had only gone downhill ever since he became Captain of a starship. If it helped him get his shopping done without getting framed for public disturbances, though, Jim didn't care. Parking the bike in its normal spot, Jim went inside, put away the groceries he had brought back with him, and shucked the harness. He had a small bruise at the top of his left wing from earlier.

Stupid people. Jim went up to his bedroom and turned on some music; blasting it so loud that he couldn't hear himself think. He would only be able to do this for another two weeks or so, might as well enjoy it.

* * *

A week and a half before Chris's return, Jim was increasingly unable to keep still. He still managed to complete his class work without issue, and kept the house in reasonably clean condition, but if he wasn't doing chores or talking with Chris or John, he was out flying with the raptors. Chris had signed off with him the day before; he wouldn't be able to call again until a few days before he returned, so Jim had a lot of time to kill. The signal on the proximity sensors only reached about thirty-five hundred meters, which had been discovered through careful testing, or, in other words, Chris setting them off trying to get Jim's attention, so he usually topped out with the vultures at around three-thousand meters to play it safe.

The world was a very different place from so high up, Jim had realized the first time he had managed to get himself to get himself over two-thousand meters. The air was thinner and there was less company, as many birds rarely go that high. But most importantly, it was so _quiet_. Jim closed his eyes and let his body drift on the currents, listening to the distant growls of the vultures and the shrieks of the eagles as his breath evened out.

A freezing gust of wind smashed into Jim, causing him to fall out of the current he was riding and plummet for several heart-stopping seconds until he recovered enough to stabilize himself. He hung in the air gasping, scrubbing at his eyes with both palms. He had fallen asleep. He'd never done that before. Looking blearily at the sky around him, he realized that he had slept the afternoon away; the warmth of the sun was fading fast, and Jim felt the rapidly cooling air biting at his skin. He couldn't stay up here any longer, he wasn't dressed for it. Twisting his body sharply, he flew towards the surface, his eyes scanning the desert floor. It was only when he was about to descend into the mountains below when Jim realized that these weren't his mountains.

"Oh, shit." Flapping his wings furiously, Jim got himself back above the peaks, his head spinning around as he tried to figure out his location. Where the hell was he? There were almost no lights on the ground, so he hadn't drifted over to Barstow and the Ords, these weren't the Cadys, and there was no way he had flown all the way up to Death Valley. He had drifted east, then. The Providence Mountains were a bit higher than the Bristols, and were a much longer range; if he went the wrong way, he could be lost for hours. Jim examined the emerging stars until he oriented himself, then headed west at a fast clip. The remaining sunlight was almost gone, which means it must be at least eighteen-hundred hours-

"Mom. Mom's supposed to call around nineteen-hundred hours. Shit shit shit!" Jim yelled into the wind as he sped up as fast as he could handle, the only thing to his advantage is that the wind direction had shifted, easing his flight. He was high enough to see the lights of Mojave to the north as he flew past, the sight calming him down immensely. Chris would kill him if he ever found out about this. Which is why Jim had no intention of telling him. Turning south, the sight of his mountains made him smile. As soon as he cleared the outer perimeter, he began to descend, the mountain walls rushing by. He slowed himself down enough to keep his ankles from shattering on impact, but he felt his landing in two very sharp spikes of pain that caused him to stumble and crash face-first into the dirt.

"Ow. Fuck, that hurt." Jim moaned as he got to his feet gingerly, brushing the dirt off his front and ignoring the blood that was seeping into his mouth from his nose. He limped the hundred meters or so back to the house, remembering the proximity alarm as he climbed the front steps. With a panicked scramble, he pulled out the alert device and checked the last six hours. When the response was negative, Jim gave a strained chuckle, brushed at his clothing, and entered the house.

After several minutes of washing his face in the bathroom, Jim realized that the noise in the distance wasn't his head throbbing, and he staggered away from the sink and into the family room, where the console was alerting him to an incoming call from a Commander Winona Kirk. He hit the audio-receive button as he used his shirt to dry his face.

"Jimmy? Jimmy, are you there?"

Jim nodded automatically, then smacked his forehead. "Uh, yeah. Hi Mom!" Jim said, pulling tissue out of his nose to see if it had stopped bleeding.

"Where in the world have you been? I tried calling about twenty minutes ago, and got no answer." Winona's voice was more curious than worried, and Jim flopped into the chair by the console.

"Sorry. I was outside, and I lost track of time," Jim said, putting the dirty tissue on the table by the console.

Winona made a 'hmm' noise. "Turn on the vid screen, Jimmy. Let me see you." Jim hesitated, then hit the button. He tried to ignore her immediate gasp. "Good grief! What happened to you, Jimmy? You didn't just lose track of time, did you?" Her eyes scanned his torso, and Jim flinched.

"I got a little lost, that's all," Jim said, scratching at a scratch on his cheek.

Winona pursed her lips and stared for a moment, obviously examining the rest of him. "Just how lost did you get? Las Vegas lost?"

Jim snorted, and waved a hand in denial. "About seventy kilometers. I was able to find my bearings, though. Obviously."

"Jim, they still sometimes do military testing down at Twenty-nine Palms. You can't just be fluttering around without knowing where you are!" Winona exclaimed, her face torn between concern and anger. Jim scowled, poking his finger through a new hole in his pants. "Jimmy, listen to me!"

Jim glared at the screen, trying to keep his voice even. "Is that concern because I might get hurt, or are you afraid I'll get seen?" Winona flinched, but kept her eyes on Jim.

"Jim...Jim. I admit that it's a bit the second one, but it's for your own concern, not mine. I thought you were worried about Chris, yes? I don't know if they are doing ballistics testing anymore in California, but I don't want to hear about you getting shot out of the sky because you weren't paying attention." Winona's eyes softened, and Jim felt the stirrings of anger in his gut calm.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Jim said, and Winona gave a slight smile.

"Oh yes, Jimmy? Being lost does not usually mean that you look like you've been through a bar brawl. Explain," Winona said, and Jim slumped in his seat with a groan.

"I may have landed a little hard," Jim muttered, wincing as he rubbed at a sore spot on his chest.

Winona sighed, putting a hand over her eyes. "I think you try to do too much with those things, Jimmy. People weren't meant to fly under their own power. What if you get really lost? Or if a shuttle hits you? You could fly too high and get altitude sickness, Jim. How high were you flying today?" Jim looked away, and Winona spoke again. "How high were you flying, Jim?"

"Does it really matter? I know how high I can go without problems. My lungs and blood vessels are much bigger than normal, so I have more range than an average person," Jim said, looking back at his mother. Winona's eyes drifted from his, and Jim suddenly felt incredibly tired. "I've been wanting to ask you for awhile, Mom; could I...come and visit sometime? I-I haven't seen you this side of a vid screen since everything happened."

Winona tensed, a muscle in her cheek twitching, but did not look Jim in the eye when she replied. "Jimmy, I...don't think that would be the best idea. There's nothing out here for you. You wouldn't be able to fly, or really do anything."

Jim's eyes narrowed. "I understand the flying, but why wouldn't I be able to do anything?"

"Jimmy, everyone thinks you've been in a boarding school off-planet this whole time. They know nothing about your physical...differences." Winona paused, her expression impossible for Jim to read. "Chris is more than well-known enough around here for someone to make the connection if they see you here, and if a news vid mentions his son Jim Pike. The whole story would collapse within days." Winona met Jim's eyes, but the look on her face made something inside Jim tear a bit, and he dropped his head to his chest, his eyes clenched tightly closed.

Without looking up, Jim opened his mouth and spoke, "If that won't work, could we maybe meet somewhere? I mean, you could even come here for a bit." Jim looked up, his eyes red with unshed tears; guilt flashed across Winona's face, and she looked down at her hands. Jim blinked rapidly and bit his lip, trying to keep from crying. "But that's just it, isn't it? You won't come here. I'm less of a reality if we talk over a comm link like this, right? Seeing me in person would bring it all back into focus for you," Jim finished, and looked defiantly at Winona, who met his gaze after what seemed like a lifetime to him.

"What do you want me to say, Jim? That I still don't know what to think of this whole wing business?" Winona waved her right hand in the air as she spoke, and Jim watched it without meaning to. "That I don't know how Chris can handle all of this so calmly? Jimmy- Jimmy, I love you; but I don't understand what you've become. I don't know if I ever will." Winona's eyes, sad and loving and frightened all at the same time looked into Jim's. Jim took a shaking breath and clenched his fists under the table, his fingernails digging into his palms; silence stretched between them for minutes, but neither of them cried. Jim was unwillingly reminded of their last encounter.

Jim unclenched his fingers, and looked up at his mother. "Thank you for being honest, Mom. I won't ask again." Jim's voice wasn't shaking, but he felt like his stomach was being carved out with a spoon. He swallowed the nauseous feeling that was crawling up his spine as Winona shook her head.

"I don't mean- I'm not saying forever, Jimmy. Just let me have some more time to think about things. Maybe after this mission, all right? That's all I can give you right now, sweetie. I'm sorry."

Jim barely remembered ending the call a minute or so later. He sat in the chair by the console for what felt like forever, torn between throwing up, kicking the shit out of something, and crying like a baby. He chose none of those. He got to his feet and walked out the door of the house, ignoring the twinges in his legs from earlier. The wind had increased ten-fold in intensity, and Jim was aloft as soon as he unfurled his wings. The only light was from the house below, the stars above, and the beautiful full moon, and Jim was grateful for it. The cold air reminded him that he hadn't put on a jacket, but that just made him fly faster. His muscles screamed as he climbed and dove in graceful patterns, the white and gold tones of his wings glowing in the brilliant moonlight. The hiss of a vulture near his head made him jump, and he growled at the bird as he continued his aerobatics. Vultures were everywhere, growling and diving. He didn't hear the voices from below until it was far too late.

"...what are we doing here, Derko? It's fucking freezing out here!"

"Thought you might want to try the game we've got going right now, nephew. Here."

"Holy fuck, Derko! Where did you get this?"

"I have my sources, kid. Let's see what we can do. Nighttime makes it harder, ya see? None of this pansy shooting in the daytime."

"This is a fucking laser rifle! What the hell are we gonna- it's you guys! You and Misar! Yer the ones shooting the animals!"

"Gotta live sometime, kid. Are you gonna man up and try it?"

"Yeah- yeah, sounds fun. But what are we gonna find out here in the Bristols? Wouldn't the Providence Mountains have been better?"

"The vultures like it here, and I haven't bagged one of them yet."

"Vultures? Holy shit, I see what you mean! Wait-"

"What, kid?"

"That's a big fucking vulture. And it's white, too. Maybe it's an al-beeno?"

"You mean albino, you dumb shit. What the hell are you looking at?"

"It's right there, see?"

"Holy- Holy shit is a fucking understatement, kid. That beast is mine!"

Jim stopped circling as he realized what he was hearing, the blood rushing from his face. "Oh fuck."

The vultures suddenly scattered as a bright red light shot into the sky, barely missing Jim's left side; he immediately turned and dove for the cliffs.

"Let me try, Derko!"

"I told you it's mine, you dipshit!"

Jim scanned the cliff sides in a panic, looking for a place to hide. The niches were all on the other side of the mountain, Jim realized in dawning horror. Another shot flew over his right wing, and he backpedaled. The house was just over the ridge; if he could get there, he could hide in the storage tanks until the poachers left. Flapping his wings violently, Jim fled towards the ridge, his heart straining against his chest. He reached the edge of the ridge and looked down, the house was right below him-

The pain shot through Jim's right shoulder and wing like nothing he had ever felt before, and he was halfway to the ground before he managed to open his eyes. The nausea from earlier returned to the surface with a bang, he spat involuntarily. The pain was too much, and tears were gathering in his eyes. He had to slow down. Forcing his injured wing to move, he managed to slow himself enough to aim for a landing spot, and he crashed into the creosote bushes by the side of the house. Moaning in pain, only adrenaline got Jim to his feet and into the house, where he activated the security system and collapsed in the bathroom to hide. The forgotten proximity alerter sat flashing on the counter. The voices from outside were faint through the walls, but Jim could still make them out.

"Where the hell is it? Falco, you fuckhead, I told you not to shoot!"

"It's not my fault, Derko! Yer the one who hit it anyway!"

"There's a house here. Why is there a house here in the middle of fucking nowhere? Shit! Kid, do you see it?"

"There's nothin'."

"Shit! Then we need to go, last thing I need is to be caught carrying; I've already got weapons convictions on my sheet."

"Derk, I think I know whose house this is!"

"I don't give a shit whose house this is, you fucking idiot! We need to leave!"

Jim heard a cry of pain from Falco, followed by the sounds of running; he didn't breathe until he could no longer hear them. Jim lifted his left arm onto the counter, grabbed the edge of the sink, and tried to pull himself up. When his head and shoulders cleared the counter top, he froze. He could see through the wound in his wing, and his shoulder was starting to swell; but strangely, they didn't really hurt. The smell of burning flesh finally registered in Jim's mind, and it was all suddenly too much. His grip on the sink failed, and he sagged to the floor unconscious.

* * *

Jim awoke about six hours later, his entire body feeling like he had fallen into a lit fireplace. It took him almost fifteen minutes to get himself into the living room, where the medical kit was stored; he could walk, but any movement of his upper-right side caused the nausea to come back full force. He was going to have a hell of a mess to clean up once he got himself fixed up. Pulling out the kit with his left arm, he opened it and grabbed the first pain-relieving hypospray he got to, stabbing it into his neck, followed by a general antibiotic. As the medicine ran through his system, Jim stared at his options. The kit had a dermal regenerator and dermaline gel. He would have to make it work. Opening the dermaline gel jar with his teeth, he used his left hand to work it into the outside radius of his shoulder burn, sobbing with pain as the gel tried to work. Jim used the dermal regenerator on the more serious parts of the wound, but it was obvious it wasn't going to be enough. It had to be enough, as going to the hospital was out of the question. Jim worked on and off on his injuries, stopping only when the pain threatened to make him pass out. After hours of gel and the regenerator, his wing was no longer see-through, and his shoulder looked somewhat better. He would just have to keep working on it.

The next few days passed quickly, if only because Jim was asleep or unconscious for much of it. He had managed to keep down a little bit of food at the beginning, but by the morning of the fourth day after the attack, he could no longer get anything but water to stay put. He had camped out on the family room floor on the second day, as he was no longer able to get himself up the stairs; he was in the same pants he had been in on the night of the attack. He had been unable to completely close the wound on his shoulder; it had turned into a disgusting mass of blackened dead flesh, which smelled horrible and would not stop weeping. The wound on his wing was in better shape, but it was excruciatingly painful to move, and also appeared to be infected. To make matters worse, the infections had triggered a nasty fever, which made him shake uncontrollably. His sides were beginning to ache ominously, and a short inquiry on the computer had told him that he was in danger of renal failure. He couldn't go on anymore without help.

Jim shivered under a thin blanket and weighed his options. Chris was only a week away, but he would probably be dead before he returned at this rate. John was about an hour away by shuttle. Or he could just call the hospital and deal with the fallout. There was no choice there. John was the easily the better of the two remaining options. Jim just hoped that John could wait until Chris got back before he reported the mess to Starfleet.

Biting back a moan as he pushed himself into a sitting position, Jim sat on the floor gasping in pain for several minutes until he gathered the will to haul himself into the chair by the console. Falling as gently as he could into the seat, he fidgeted until he got himself into a stable position. His body felt like a wet noodle, his legs shaking with the effort of keeping him from falling out of the chair. After taking one last hypospray for the pain, Jim raised a shaking hand to the console, making sure the video was off before placing the call. He tried to get his body to stop shuddering, but the fever was making it harder and harder to achieve.

"Admiral Archer's office. May I help you?"

Taking a deep breath and blinking back tears as it pulled at his shoulder wound, Jim opened his mouth. "Hi, Ms. Nakashima. I-it's Jim Pike. Is-is the Admiral available?"

* * *

Continued in _Or freely talk_

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A few notes on the setting, as fellow SoCal hombres and Imperials are going to probably notice:

I moved the town of Mojave. Because of the description given in the TOS pilot, one of a green paradise in the middle of the desert, I figured that something extreme (terraforming test?) has to have happened for this to reasonably and sustainably work, and for that, I thought they would try a mostly uninhabited area to test. So the "modern" Mojave in the story is on an area of land in San Bernardino County, set around the current location of the area of Zzyzx, touching the town of Baker. You can say that the original Mojave (located in Kern County, about 200km away) reverted to using the old spelling, if it makes you feel better (Mohave.) ^_~

Small settlements such as the ones that dot Interstates 15 and 40 come and go, so it wouldn't be out of the question that some have vanished or changed in the next 200 years. Chris & Jim's house is closest to the currently existing "town" of Ludlow (and its approximately 10 residents,) but I've gotten rid of it in the future. As sad as it makes me, I think in this universe of light-speed transport and alien worlds, things such as Route 66 (which runs up 40 for awhile) will have fallen even more on the wayside than they already have, which would have killed many of the settlements on the way; making their house more isolated than it would be now.

Regarding the turkey vultures: I don't know if they hang around the Bristol Mountains specially. They are however moderately common to the Mojave Desert. :)

Regarding the "San Berdoo (San Bernardino) Kangaroo Rats:" These adorable little rodents have been a hot topic regarding the rights of land use and critical habitat in the Island Empire for over 10 years now. They are also an endangered species. In the story, I've had them recover enough that their habitat has expanded to at least the Barstow area, (which is about 90km west of Jim) with pockets beyond.

I made a quicky map of Jim and Chris's Mojave using the magic of Google Earth, but you'll have to find the link at my livejournal. ^^;

There were...7 musical references in this, including the title. See if you spotted them all! :D

To see a sketch based on a scene from the story, go to my Deviantart account linked in my profile. :)

Here were the musical references from _Under an atomic sky_, excepting the title:

1. Admiral Lehrer is based on the singer-satirist Tom Lehrer.  
2. Commodore Newton is based on the singer Juice Newton.  
3. The song Chris sings is "How Blue Can You Get?" by B.B. King.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Or freely talk

**A shout out to my wonderful beta welovethelegend, as she is amazing wrapped in awesome bundled in sunshine. :D**

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**Some notes before you read:**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just having a little fun with them. :)**

**Regarding my tendency to not capitalize the titles properly: **I was asked about this by a kind reviewer, and I gave a long rambling answer where I completely forgot the main reason why. Yeah, don't ask. In the language of the Mojave people, only the first letter in multi-word names is capitalized. I don't know if it applies to story titles, but well, oh well. The other reason is that many of the LJ communities I post to knock the post titles down to all lowercase letters anyway, and I got used to it. So there you go. :)

Actual Summary: Jonathan Archer isn't a doctor by any means; but as he has found out many times during his career, sometimes you just have to rise to the challenge. Caffeine usually helps.

Also could be called: Where John is a monologuing old man, but really, can you blame him?

In this story:

Jim - 16  
Chris Pike - 41  
Winona Kirk - 45  
Jonathan Archer - 52

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**Or freely talk**

At this particular moment, Jonathan Archer couldn't care less about the Andorians. It was harsh, especially considering that he was far better acquainted with them than most of Starfleet, and in a generally positive way. But the Andorian ambassador was going on about dilithium distribution, of all things, a topic that he was sure had been beaten into the ground long before he ever became an admiral, his rear-end was asleep, and most importantly, he was out of coffee. John looked at the clock on the wall behind Admiral Komack's head. What time was this meeting supposed to end? Lehrer and Nogura both looked like they wanted to pass out, and even Ambassador Sarek looked strained. A little bit. A tiny bit. And only his familiarity with Vulcan non-facial expressions let him read that much. Propping his elbows on the table, he laid his left hand over the loose fist of his right and set his chin on top, trying to look attentive. By the look Lehrer sent him, however, he had a feeling he looked as bored as the rest of them. The Andorian ambassador had just started in on starbase distribution of dilithium when John noticed the alert light on the PADD sitting in front of him was blinking. He lowered his hands to the table and called up the message, expecting it to be regarding some paperwork he needed to do before he left today. It was anything but. John reread the message, making sure he hadn't misunderstood it, and cleared his throat.

"Ambassador Shras, Ambassador Sarek, sirs, my apologies. Something has come up, and I regretfully need to depart this meeting early. Please excuse me." John rose to his feet, nodded to the ambassadors, ignored the glares from Komack and Nogura, and left the room at a good clip, nodding to Komack's secretary as he left the office. It was only a two minute walk to his smaller office, and he walked in without pausing at the doors.

"Tory, what is this?" John said, motioning to the PADD in his hand. "'Something is wrong with Jimmy' is not a very detailed message. What is going on?" Tory rose to her feet as he was talking, and walked up to him.

"I mean what it says, sir. Our young Mr. Pike didn't tell me anything. He called about five minutes ago, asking for you, I told him you were currently in a meeting. I asked him if it was an emergency, but he just asked me to tell you he called and cut the connection." Tory said, looking at John with mild concern in her eyes. "His voice wasn't right, John. It was too weak, and he was stuttering. I've only heard him stutter once before, and that was-"

"When he was telling us about Chris's condition after the Orion raiders attacked his ship about two years ago. I remember." Chris hadn't been given any guarantees for several days, and Jim had been a wreck...as much as he tried to hide it. John frowned, and rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Thanks for letting me know, Tory. I'll call him back right now."

Tory nodded. "I hope he's alright. The Captain isn't due dirtside for another week." John gave her a wave as he entered into his inner office, closing the door behind him. He sat down at his desk, skipping the coffee he had been craving during the meeting, and placed the call. It was answered almost immediately, which caused the worry that had been growing in his gut to expand rapidly. Jimmy never answered the comm right away.

"Jimmy, are you there? Tory told me you just called," John said, and waited.

After a moment of near-silence from the other end, Jimmy's voice came through. "Hey John. H-how are you doing? Sorry about ca-calling so early." Ice shot through John's veins at the sound of Jimmy's voice. Tory was the master of understatement, John realized. Her 'didn't sound right' was 'something was horribly wrong' to him.

John decided on the direct approach. "Jimmy, cut the crap. I left a meeting with the Andorian ambassador to come speak with you. What's going on?" John listened to shuffling through the speakers, topped with an odd sound and an obvious sharp inhalation of breath. "Jimmy?"

"I told her not to b-bother you, John. It could have waited," Jimmy said, his voice reedy and thin from- something. John's frown increased, and he turned the video on.

"Jim, turn on the video feed." Another gasp through the speakers, and John was now positive what was making Jimmy sound so strange. "Jimmy, now."

The voice that answered was shaking so badly that it was almost hard to understand. "It's-It's mal-malfunctioning. S-sorry, John."

Jim was lying through his teeth, but that wasn't the priority. "Jimmy, are you hurt? You don't sound right." John said, bringing up another screen on his console to look up emergency services.

When Jimmy responded with the same kind of laugh he had heard from his mother the day his father died, broken, with no mirth and impending tears, John's concern turned to near-panic. "R-remember that news th-thing we were t-talking about er-earlier in the month, J-john?" Jim said, and John froze.

_No._

"Jimmy, are you talking about the poachers?" John said, barely controlling his own voice.

"Y-yeah. It's k-kinda funny, really. I r-really shouldn't have b-been out so late. I-it was an accident...t-they thought I was an an-animal." Jimmy laughed that frightening laugh again, tinged with what John was sure was a bit of hysteria, and John's heart stopped.

"Jimmy, are you saying that you got shot? Please tell me I'm wrong, kiddo." John could no longer keep the fear out of his own voice, and he scanned the list for the comm information for Mojave Emergency.

"Y-yeah, I did. Hurts l-like hell, too. H-have you ever b-been shot, John? I d-don't recommend it." A dry chuckle this time. John clenched his jaw and located the necessary information.

"Jimmy, I'm going to alert the hospital to come get you, okay? They should be there soon." John was just about to send the message when Jim's voice came through, the clearest it had been since they had started the conversation.

"No! No, I can't go to the hospital. I can't, John. It's not an option." The slight hysteria in Jimmy's voice had transformed into full-blown panic. "John, no, I can't."

John buried his hands in his hair. "Jimmy, I know you are sensitive about your back, but this is no time to be doing this! Laser burns are incredibly serious, Jimmy; they need to be treated as soon as possible." John again reached out to hit send on the message, when Jimmy spoke.

"John, John, I can't go. I'll hide from them if you send them. I can't get Dad-" Jimmy broke off. "I-if you could emergency-transport me a protoplaser, I could p-probably finish fixing m-myself up."

John caught the mention to Chris, but Jimmy's other slip was more important. "Finish fixing...Jimmy, when did you get hurt?" There was no response, and John bit back a sudden onslaught of anger. "Jim, answer me."

"F-four days ago? I thought I had it under c-control, but I was wr-wrong. Th-they aren't healing right." Jim hissed in pain as he spoke, and John tightened his fists to the point of pain, but he ignored it.

"Holy- Jimmy! Why didn't you call me? This is serious! You can't let something like that fester!" John accessed the Starfleet transport system and put in an order for a shuttle to be readied immediately while he spoke. "Jimmy, I'll come down to you, okay? I'll just need to get some things together, and I'll be there. Give me about two hours." John got to his feet and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

"Don't- don't be m-mad at Dad when you g-get here. It's my f-fault, he's j-just trying to help. I don't w-want him to g-get in trouble," Jimmy babbled. John gave the blank screen of the console a look of confusion.

"Jimmy, what in the hell are you going on about? Why would Chris be in trouble?" John paused, and grabbed a PADD. "On second thought, we'll talk about that when I get there. Just hang tight, Jimmy. Just a few hours."

"O-okay, a f-few hours. John-" Jimmy's voice dropped off, and John almost choked. "John, don't hate me." Jimmy's voice was clear, if still weak, on the last line, and John closed his eyes.

"Jimmy, whatever it is, we'll talk about it when I get there, alright?" John said, reaching to cut the connection.

Jimmy took a deep, shaking breath. "Yessir."

John cut the connection and strode from his office. "Tory, I'm going to be gone for a few days," he said, heading towards the exit. Tory's eyes told her concern, and she nodded. John left the command building and headed straight to Starfleet Medical. Dr. Phlox was on Denobula right now, but one of his proteges was on staff, and would lend him what he needed without questions.

* * *

Thirty minutes later saw John in the air heading towards the Mojave Desert, incalculably glad that he had the location of Chris's house pre-programmed into his console. The damn desert looked all alike to him, brown and grey and rocky and goddamned desert; he would have never found his way without help. Not for the first time, John wished that Chris had been born somewhere else; anywhere else.

Then again, Chris probably would have been born in Siberia, if only to spite him. As the green on the land below thinned as he crossed over the Sierra Nevadas and headed south, his eyes focused on the alien landscape below. John was a spoiled New York boy, as Chris had called him more than once, deserts had been more of a concept to him than a reality until he had entered the academy. Then he had signed up for a survival course which had landed him at the outskirts of Death Valley, and he had decided then, helped along with a misguided attempt at drinking from a very sketchy spring, that deserts were the scourge and bane of his existence. So why in the hell did he make friends with a born-and-bred sand rat? To make matters worse, Chris had turned Jimmy into a desert rat as well, otherwise he would be having a much shorter trip within the San Francisco limits. Death Valley was below him, and he mentally saluted Badwater as he continued south.

Jimmy. What was the kid going on about earlier? As weak as he sounded, he hadn't sounded delirious when he started going on about John being mad at Chris, and John was honestly confused by that whole part of the conversation.

"Why the hell would I be mad at Chris?" John muttered, as he began his descent; the lights and greenery of Mojave were an out-of-place splash on the landscape below, and he ignored them as he approached Chris's mountains. There wasn't enough room to park the shuttle by the house, and John brought the vehicle to a spot about ten minutes walk south of it, landing it right on the faint dirt road that serviced the house. John killed the engines and leapt to his feet, gathering up the case of medical supplies he had procured before exiting the shuttle. Setting off up the road, John's eyes were immediately drawn to a scorch mark about 25 meters up the cliff side, a blackened stain against the light rocks that he shouldn't be able to see.

"That isn't from a handgun, it's too damn big," John said to himself, and he gasped when he saw two more stains about ten and twenty meters from the first. The poachers had clearly been chasing something. John's hand clenched around the medical case, and he continued towards the top. The house came into view only a minute later, a Mission-style building that had been largely constructed with desert rock and set into the mountainside, allowing it to blend into its surroundings. It was perfect for the landscape, and the classic exterior hid a inside filled with modern technology and protections. John just wished that the strip of land that Chris had inherited had been somewhere less remote.

Reaching the front door, John gave it a few solid knocks. After a moment of silence, he knocked again. "Jimmy, it's me. I'm coming in, alright?" There was no answer. John was suddenly very grateful that Chris had registered him for the house locks, as he put his palm against the flat panel to the side of the door. The panel flashed, and John reached down and turned the doorknob.

The smell assaulted his nostrils as soon as he opened the door, and John took a step away from the doorway to compose himself. The air from the house was musty, with a strong under-taint of vomit, urine, and other things he really didn't want to consider. And Jimmy had been staying in this for days. John steeled himself and entered the house.

"Jimmy, where are you?" John yelled, as his eyes scanned the front entryway. Was that a feather on the floor? John called out again; finally receiving a pained grunt from the back room. Crossing into the living room, John stopped. Dried vomit clung to several spots of the floor and a medical kit had been overturned, the contents spilling onto the rug in the center of the room. Why were white and gold feathers scattered everywhere? John picked one up, and took a closer look. It was massive, far too large to be from an eagle or a vulture. Maybe a condor? It wasn't important now. John released the feather and walked around to the other side of the room, where he noticed two smaller feathers lying near the doorway. They were both burned.

"What in the hell-" John mumbled. "Jimmy, talk to me," John said, and entered the corridor between the two rooms.

"S-stop!" Jimmy's voice sounded even worse to John's ears, but it still carried.  
John did just that, coming to a halt a few steps before the back room. "Jimmy, we don't have time for this," John said, and took a step forward.

"Just- just promise me you w-won't freak out." Jimmy's voice sounded resigned, and John exhaled loudly.

"Jimmy-"

"Promise me!" Jimmy's tone was laced with desperation now, and John swallowed.

"I promise, Jimmy." There was no answer, and John entered the room.

The smell was ten times worse than before, and John bit back a sudden rush of nausea. A plate of dried-out bread sat on the floor near his feet, and there was even more signs of vomit. The large sofa near the wall had a nest of blankets on it, and feathers and dirty bandages were everywhere. John approached the sofa island near the center of the room, carefully avoiding as much of the mess as possible. As soon as he could see into the enclave between the sofas, his jaw dropped.

Bizarrely, the first thought that came to mind was that he had never seen Jimmy without a shirt before. The teen was lying on his left side, curled up into a fetal position. His skin, so tan the last time they spoke over a vid transmission was wan and grey; John could see the frightening black mess that was Jimmy's right shoulder. His back, though- John followed the line of the boy's neck down his spine, noting where the bones emerged around the scapula. Jimmy didn't have a hump on his back. He had full-blown wings. Wings. White and gold feathered wings. John must have made some sort of noise, because Jimmy's head twisted around enough to get an eye on him.

"You p-promised you wouldn't f-freak out," Jimmy said, his visible eye wide with fear. John blinked slowly, trying to formulate a response. Jimmy had wings. They were sprawled on the floor with him, the right one draped at an odd angle. John saw a bald spot surrounded by red and blackened flesh on the right wing, and the shock slipped away.

This wasn't the time.

"I did promise," John said, and walked up to Jimmy's side and lowered himself to the floor, setting the medical kit down by his side. Jimmy had two wounds, that he could see, but the angle- "Jimmy, you only got shot once, didn't you?" John gently prodded at the outside of the shoulder wound, grimacing at the weeping, clearly infected injury. It was mostly covered in eschar, and John opened the case and dug for a laser scalpel and the tricorder. Time to put those emergency lessons to work. Phlox would be proud. "Jimmy, I'll have to remove the necrotic tissue first." He ran the tricorder over Jimmy's prone form and winced at the readings. His kidneys were showing signs of distress due to the infection from the burns, he was starting to suffer from an electrolyte imbalance, and he was severely dehydrated. The only good news was that the wing injury had responded much better to Jimmy's earlier efforts, and the infection was much smaller on the thin flesh. He would have to work carefully. If the infection in the arm wasn't completely removed, he would probably lose it. "Jimmy, I'm not a doctor. I'm going solely on various emergency courses and lessons that I've received over the years. I can't promise anything." John laid a hand on the teen's head, the filthy hair parting under his fingers.

Jimmy nodded sluggishly, his left hand reaching up to touch John's hand. "I'm sorry," Jimmy said, and John gave him a sad smile.

"It wasn't your fault, Jimmy. I just wish you had called me sooner," John said, patting Jimmy on the cheek.

"I'm not talking about that."

John picked up a hypospray of anaesthetic. "You have nothing to apologize for." He depressed the hypo near the shoulder wound and watched as some of the tension drained away from the teen. "Better?"

Jimmy sighed. "A little."

John picked up the scalpel. "I need you to lie on your stomach, kiddo. Try to keep these things-" John gave Jimmy's left uninjured wing a soft poke, "-out of the way." The poke actually brought a small chuckle out of the teen, and John felt some of the tension that had been coiling in his gut fade. John helped Jimmy shift slowly onto his stomach, and put a pillow under the boy's head. The wings did present a maneuvering problem for John, however; after a moment of thought, he moved himself up by Jimmy's head. "No moving, Jimmy." After an answering grunt, John leaned over and got to work.

John set down the protoplaser and surveyed his handiwork. The tricorder's readings were already much improved, and the comprehensive antibiotic he had hypoed Jimmy with after he was done with the debridement was doing its job well. He had cut a bit too much off with the scalpel, but the protoplaser had managed to repair the majority of it. It was going to scar, although it shouldn't be too bad. The wing hadn't needed debridement, luckily, just a few minutes with the protoplaser. A few more hyposprays to correct the electrolyte imbalance and relieve the dehydration issue, both problems which had been forecast and solutions given him by Phlox's student, and Jimmy was looking and doing a hundred percent better.

Now that the imminent danger was out of the way, John wiped the sweat from his face with his shirt and sat back to take a good look at the teen. Jimmy was lean and surprisingly muscular, especially in the torso. It made sense if the wings worked, which John was pretty damned sure they did. John remembered the climbing scorch marks on the cliff near the house, and closed his eyes in anger. The only accident there had been here was that they had thought he was a bird, John was certain of it. From the looks of it, Jimmy was trying to escape to the house, and was flying over the arête in the mountain close to the house when he was hit. "What did they think you were, Jimmy?" John muttered, more to himself. Jimmy groaned and cracked open an eyelid.

"You mean the poachers?" Jimmy said, voice rough with exhaustion.

John gently lifted and examined the teen's left wing. "Yeah."

"From what I overheard, they thought I was a giant albino vulture. Those guys were really fucking dumb." Jimmy's words were muffled by the pillow. John snorted, and looked closer at the wing he was holding. There were feathers missing all over it, not enough to expose the skin, but enough to look ragged. John clicked his tongue.

"Jimmy, do you, er, molt if you get ill?" John said, glancing at the uninjured part of the right wing, noting similar gaps. There was no response, and John tapped Jimmy on the temple. "You awake, kiddo?"

"Er? Oh, um, sometimes. This is the worse it's ever been, though," Jimmy mumbled into the pillow, and John gave him a tired smile.

John got up from the floor, and took a look around the room. His nose had got accustomed to the smell, but it was still there. "Jimmy, why don't we put you to bed. You've been camped out down here since you got hurt, haven't you?" John looked down at the teen, who was dozing off. "I can clean this place up while you're asleep."

"-ut I made the mess," Jimmy muttered, as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. John took Jimmy's left arm and helped him to his feet, putting his own arm around the boy's waist when he began to list dangerously. The teen's skin was still clammy to the touch, and John tried not to focus too much on the tremors that Jimmy was obviously trying to control.

"Since you didn't go out telling those bastards 'shoot me,' I think you can be absolved of some of the blame." John attempted to get Jimmy moving, but succeeded only in catching him as he fell over. "Sorry about this, Jim." John leaned over and hoisted Jimmy bridal-style into his arms, the wings dangling loose. Jimmy was unexpectedly light, and even going upstairs didn't slow his speed down too much. Jimmy grumbled his embarrassment at first, but John got no resistance from the exhausted teen, and John pushed the door to Jimmy's room open with his hip. Because he had stayed downstairs after he got injured, his room was undisturbed. John gently set him down on his bed, and walked over to the dresser.

"Whatcha doin'?" Jimmy said, as he slowly shifted himself into a more comfortable position on the mattress. John pulled out a pair of pajama pants and boxers out of the drawers, and walked back to Jimmy's side.

"I'm guessing that you have been wearing those things since you got hurt, by the fact they appear to be able to stand up on their own. Do you think you can change yourself? I don't want to embarrass you any more than necessary." John motioned to the pants that Jimmy was wearing, and the teen reached out his left hand and took the clothes from John.

Jimmy scoffed, and John turned around as the boy slowly shimmied out of the dirty pants. "The day you don't try to find something to embarrass me about is the day that the Klingons take up knitting instead of fighting." The old pants fell on the floor by John's feet, and he could hear Jim wiggling on the bed.

"Not much of a difference there. Have you seen how big knitting needles can get?" John waited until the movement noise stopped, and turned his body towards the bed. "You decent?"

"Ummhm."

John helped the freshly clothed teen under the blankets. If he had any doubt as to how tired Jimmy was, the lack of grumbling after he ruffled his hair told it best. John headed to the door of the bedroom, and lowered the lights to ten percent. "Go to sleep, Jimmy. I'll come and check on you a bit later." A garbled noise that may have been an 'okay' came from the bed, and John gave a small smile and closed the door.

* * *

John didn't even think about it at first, as he methodically opened the windows to let the dry desert air in, set the robotic floor cleaner to work, collected laundry and picked up feathers off the carpet. It was sometime between unjamming the floor cleaner (too many feathers) and shaking the barbs off the blanket that Jimmy had been using on the front step of the house that the whole affair hit him like a starship on a collision course, and John found himself sitting on the step clutching the blanket, wondering when he had sat down.

John had always wondered what Chris was hiding regarding Jim. The story he had been told explaining Jimmy had been too simple, with too many questions left unanswered; Chris could be damned good at obfuscating when he wanted to be. It was a necessary political tool, but it rankled when it was turned on him. John picked up a tiny feather that had been stuck to the blanket and stared at it. If Jimmy had been half-alien, even if he couldn't think of a single known species that would give someone working bird-like wings, they would have never bothered covering it up. There was still discrimination against mixed-species children, unfortunately, but not enough to merit the elaborate show that had been staged here. Chris would have had no problem in protecting Jimmy if that had been the case. No, this was more than that. John twirled the feather in-between his fingers, ignoring the breeze that was stirring the dry soil in the canyon around him. Chris had stated early on that Jimmy's mother was human, and John knew she was. Jimmy's father had been human as well, if a different hunch of his was correct, but that was neither here or there right now. There was, then, only two things that he could think of that would give a human boy wings, and both would merit the layers of secrecy that Chris and Jim had been maintaining for over five years.

The boy could be heavily genetically modified, something that was both illegal in most cases and looked upon very badly by most, especially humans. The memories of the Eugenics Wars were not easily forgotten, even if that was generations ago; if word had gotten out, Chris's career would have been doomed by association alone, even if he had nothing to do with it. John wasn't even sure if even the most skilled geneticists could have done this, however. The sheer amount of manipulation that would have been required was beyond his comprehension, and unless the mother gave Jimmy up for experimental purposes, it would have been cost-prohibitive. John knew there were plenty of worlds willing to do the work if you had the cash, but wings and the related modifications needed for them to work? No, the chances of Jimmy being genetically modified were rather slim. That only left one choice, and the implications of it were overwhelming.

The x-gene. Considered now an evolutionary dead-end from the actions of frightened governments in the early twenty-first century; even if over fifty percent of the population was estimated to have the gene, it was completely dormant, and no attempt to reawaken it had succeeded since. There were always the standing rumors that a handful of the Homo Sapiens Superiors, as they had been scientifically known, were still alive, their abilities giving them much extended lifespans; but if there were any left, they had long since disappeared into the stars. John didn't blame them. Ironically, the Augments and the Eugenics Wars had largely been spurred by the attempt to make a controlled version of the x-gene, genetic improvement without the unpredictability. John snorted and got to his feet, brushing the dirt off the seat of his pants. That had gone well. If Jimmy represented the resurrection of the gene-

John shook his head. Jimmy would never have peace and quiet if it got out, and it would be especially disastrous while he was so young. Every lab and geneticist worth their salt would want him, and would have him tied up to testing equipment so fast that his head would spin. Jimmy didn't deserve that. They wouldn't be able to hide it forever, but John could almost guarantee that giving Jimmy as normal of a childhood as one could have, well, for being the only person in the world with wings, had been Chris's plan all along. He knew why Chris hadn't told him; he was an Starfleet Admiral, and as such was expected to report such things when they could be considered beneficial to the organization, and there was no doubt that this discovery would be considered as such. Chris was also expected to, of course, but he was at the center of the whole affair.

"Goddamnit." John gave the long-forgotten blanket a few shakes and went back inside the house. He needed to check on Jimmy. A sudden thought struck John, and it chilled him to the bone. Jimmy had almost died to protect his...secret? His freedom? Or- John almost choked with the realization. It was to protect Chris. It had to be. Jimmy was devoted to him, it had been obvious since that first day he met the boy back at Chris's rented house in San Francisco. Chris would have never told Jimmy to do what he did; never would have told him to take a wait-and-see approach to critically serious injury for the sake of his career. Christopher Pike was a damned good man. It was one of the certainties in life. Admiral Nogura had clearly been born a judgmental old man, Commodore Newton refused to be promoted anymore because it would take her away from her precious chorale, and Captain Pike was one of the most upstanding and honorable men in Starfleet.

When he had first met Chris, he had just gotten his commission as Captain, and Chris was still a cadet. He had thought Chris too severe, too caught up in his studies at first; but after an insightful discussion about the desert, complete with a alcohol-fueled rant on his part about how they should just terraform the lot of it because it was too ugly and dry and boring otherwise, his eyes had been opened. Actually, they had almost been forcibly closed, as his rant served to completely piss Chris off, but instead of hitting him, Chris had started talking. When John had countered that Chris had been raised in Mojave, a green paradise in the middle of the desert, Chris had scoffed and launched into the most detailed and romantic description of the Mojave Desert, Death Valley and all, that John was certain had ever been said about the place. He had talked about the eagles and the hawks, the yellow carpets of wildflowers in the springtime, the amazing caverns and even the snow. John had had a double-take at the last one, but Chris said that the desert at sunrise and sunset with snow on the ground was one of the most beautiful things a person could ever see, and John fell a little bit in love with it purely through Chris's description. Almost twenty years later, and John found himself yet again in the middle of Chris's precious desert. He had grown fond of it, well, as long as it wasn't summertime; but he would never confess that to either desert rat. He'd never live it down.

After grabbing the tricorder, John slowly opened the door to Jimmy's room and walked up to his bedside. A short scan with the device showed that Jimmy was doing much better than just a few hours ago, and the fever had mostly abated. John had to smile at the soft snores coming from the sleeping Jimmy, drool leaking onto the pillow. He had needed his rest. John checked the teen's temperature the old-fashioned way with a hand to the forehead, his nose crinkling up a bit when his hand connected with Jimmy's filthy hair. A shower was most certainly in Jimmy's future. John left Jimmy's room and headed down to the guest bedroom, the one he normally used when he stayed over. It was a bit musty, and it was clear that it hadn't been opened since Chris had left on his short-term mission three months ago, but it was fine. John opened the window and shook the bedding out, and stopped when he saw something outside. It was just a jackrabbit, but John stared at it for a moment. He had left all the windows open downstairs. Chris had installed one of the best security setups money could buy for the place, to ostensibly protect it while it was vacant, but it had been upgraded not long after Jimmy had come to live with him. John made his bed, then walked back downstairs, closed all the windows and double checked the security settings. Chris and Jimmy had made it this far without their secret blowing wide open, and he wasn't going to ruin it for them.

John made himself a sandwich for dinner, checked on Jimmy a few more times, and sent a short message to Tory to let her know that Jimmy was doing better, but he would be staying here until Chris got in and to arrange his commitments accordingly. John stopped by the master bedroom to nick something to wear for the next few days from Chris's drawers. The two of them were the same height, although Chris had about five kilos on him and a bulkier torso, but he wasn't going out anywhere, and Jimmy wasn't going to care. After grabbing a few plain shirts and a pair of pajama pants, he shuffled down the hall and went to bed.

* * *

Three days later, and Jimmy was doing well. He still tired quickly, and an ill-conceived attempt to go for a flight had ended before he even got off the ground, but he was feeling better every day. John took the opportunity to quiz him about his physical differences, getting his confirmation about the x-gene almost immediately. As John had figured, the changes were much more complex than simply having a set of wings on his back. Hollow bones, much larger lungs and blood vessels, as well as higher flexibility all worked together with those wings to allow Jimmy to fly, and fly well; John was utterly fascinated by it all. Jimmy hadn't wanted to tell him anything at first, but after John assured him, multiple times, that he had no intention of saying anything, Jimmy seemed relieved to be able to tell someone new about _everything_. It was tiring keeping secrets. John knew that from experience, and seeing the tension drain out of the young man as he talked about crazy stunts he had done that John could most definitely _not_ tell his dad about, using language that would get the glare from aforementioned dad (who had told John on multiple occasions that he was a bad influence) while doing so made John much more relaxed about the situation. The two of them even did a few casual jam sessions, with Jimmy singing with that smooth voice of his and John on the guitar (he wasn't as good as Chris, but he could hold his own) and John could sense with every song how _lonely_ Jimmy was sometimes, even if he'll deny it until the Ferengi stop being tight-asses.

John couldn't wait for Chris to call tomorrow. He was going to enjoy every minute of it.

He just hoped heart attacks didn't run in Chris's family.

* * *

Jimmy dozed off on the couch in the front room while they were watching a movie, a twentieth-century piece about a woman who pretends she's a man who is cross-dressing as a woman, the logistics of which were utterly mind-boggling at first and amused Jimmy to no end. John threw a light blanket over the teen and stopped the crazy movie; Jimmy had been enjoying it, so they would try it again later when he was awake. John suddenly heard the noise of an incoming call in the family room, at the time Jim had told him it would, and he headed in and sat at the chair in front of the console and waited. After a few more seconds, the call auto-connected.

Chris's voice came in loud and clear, and John felt his mouth creep up into a mischievous smile. "You there, Jim? You know, you could answer before it picks up automatically, you know." John didn't say anything, and Chris's voice came back again, this time with a hint of exacerbation. "Did you forget the time, Jim?" John heard him sigh, and his smile stretched wider. "Jim, are you in the house?"

John couldn't wait anymore. "Jim is currently taking a much needed mid-day nap, but I can tell you that we will be having an incredibly interesting conversation, Chrissy." There was dead silence from the other end for a moment, and John was just starting to get worried when much tenser tones than just a moment before come back over the connection.

"John? What in the hell are you doing there? What's going on with Jim?" John was getting the full power of Chris's 'captain' voice, and it was a good one. The amusement John had been getting out of Chris's confusion deflated on the spot. This was a serious situation no matter how you looked at it, and John knew he had been dealing with it by keeping a humorous outlook on it. No more bullshitting around.

"Jimmy is fine, at least he is now. I received a very distressing communication from him four days ago, and came straight down here," John said, and waited for Chris. John could hear Chris shuffle around a bit on the other end.

"Turn on the video, John," Chris said, and John watched as the screen lit up with Chris's grim face. John activated the video on his end, and the two men looked at each other in silence for a long moment. "That's my shirt."

John gave Chris a slight smile. "Sorry Chrissy, I didn't stop to pack before I rushed down here."

"What happened?" Chris's gaze was intense, and John settled back in his chair.

"Do you want it straight up, Chris?" John said, and Chris nodded. John took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, formulating his response. "As I said, Jimmy called me four days ago. He refused to turn on the vid screen, his voice was weak, he was stuttering badly, and babbling about getting you in trouble. After a bit of disjointed back and forth, I managed to get out of him that he had been shot." John watched Chris's eyes widen in shock. "Not only had he been shot, he had been shot about four days before calling me. Four days, Chris. He was adamant about not going to the hospital, and I realized that I was his only option. I didn't know what to think when his last line to me was asking me not to hate him, Chris. I managed to wrangle medical equipment out of a doctor at Starfleet Medical, and hauled ass down here." John stopped to breathe. Chris's expression was guarded, and he kept his mouth shut. Chris was waiting to see how much he knew. John sighed. "Turns out, well, he probably told you, that there are some poachers going around with old laser rifles in the desert and killing anything they feel like. Well, those poachers mistook Jim for an animal when he was outside at night**-**time, by his own words. At first, I figured that Jimmy had been walking out among the Joshua trees or something, and they shot him based on movement." John met Chris's gaze with a bit of ice in his own. "Then I get here and discover that things are much more complicated than that. Had Jim waited another twelve hours to call me, he would have probably lost his arm. Another twenty-four hours beyond that, and we would be having an entirely different conversation right now. He received a single shot from a laser rifle, and the only reason he isn't dead is because he was high enough up in the air that he was near the edge of the weapon's range. He'll have a scar on the back of his right shoulder, and possibly a small scar on his right wing." John slumped a bit in the chair, and watched Chris's expression collapse.

"He's asleep right now?" Chris looked defeated, and John mustered up enough energy to give him a reassuring look.

"Yeah. I was able to fix him up, he'll just be under the weather for another week or so," John said, and Chris scrubbed a hand through his hair.

"So now you know. God, John, I-" Chris stumbled over his words, and shock was the only thing that registered in John's brain for a moment. Chris Pike did not stumble over words.

"Chris, what do you think I am going to do? I promised Jimmy I wouldn't say anything, and I plan on sticking to that. I know why you didn't tell me, Chris, but I really wish you had." John looked at his old friend, whose face had gone completely blank. He had one more thing to say. "Chris- Chris. I thought about it, after I had managed to patch him up and had a few minutes to process. I thought it was about his freedom, but I don't think he would have been willing to die on the floor of your house just for that. It would have been equally pointless if it was just about the secret itself. No-" John paused, and looked directly at Chris. "I know you sure as hell didn't mean for him to do it, or would ever want him to do it, but the reality of it is that Jimmy almost killed himself to protect you. When he called me, he was babbling about you, and how he didn't want you to get in trouble. Chris, he's deathly afraid of losing you. You're all he's got, at least in his mind." John finished, and gave Chris a sad smile. Chris was blinking rapidly; John rubbed at his own eyes.

"John...thank you. I don't know what else to say. Just- thank you," Chris said, his eyes suspiciously shinier than usual. John shook his head.

"I'm just glad to have made it in time, Chris." John chuckled to himself, and Chris gave him a quizzical look.

"What was that for?"

John let the smirk reappear, even if it was a bit tempered. "Got any other big Jimmy-related secrets to tell me? Or do I get to guess?" He watched as the tired worry on Chris's face transformed into something a bit harder, and John rolled his eyes. "I have a better idea. Let me tell you a very short story from when we all met up on Grange III, and about the time where I went to wake up Jimmy so he wouldn't get a nasty sunburn from sleeping outside, and I almost called him George."

Chris's expression relaxed a bit in what John was pretty sure was relief, and his head tilted a bit to the side. "That was almost two years ago." Chris looked at John. "You've known this whole time and you haven't said a damn thing." Chris's expression was wry. "Has anyone told you that you can be a real jackass sometimes, John?"

John grinned. "Your son, about...oh, a month ago?" Chris groaned and scratched at his hairline.

"Remind me to yell at him later," Chris said, then his face turned serious. "Weren't you concerned about why I had him?"

John stilled, and gave a slight nod. "I managed to finagle a reason to contact Commander Kirk shortly thereafter, and I asked about him during the conversation. I got a series of very general statements out of her about what Jim Kirk was up to that sounded exactly like what Jim Pike was up to, and I realized that she and Jimmy were still in some sort of contact." John rolled his shoulders to relieve the stiffness settling in them. "When I realized that, I figured that Jimmy was with you with her blessing, as it were."

"She didn't want him after everything...came to light, John. I still have nightmares about the night I took Jim out of that house." Chris turned his head to the side, his eyes closed.

John pursed his lips. "How bad was it?"

Chris's eyes were haunted. "If I hadn't gone, I'm almost positive the next call would have been someone informing me about the tragic murder-suicide at the Kirk household."

John's eyes went wide, and he sat up in his seat. "You aren't exaggerating."

"I wish I was, John. I wish I was," Chris said as he rested his chin on his hand. "I entered their house after talking to her over a communicator for hours to find her sitting on a sofa clutching a phaser set to kill, and Jim unconscious on the floor surrounded by blood spatter. She hadn't hurt him, the blood was from the wings breaking through his back; but she was scared and borderline hysterical. My original plan was to take Jim for a few weeks, let things calm down; but Winona let me know quickly that she didn't want him back. His only other choice would have been to go off planet to a boarding school or something to be forgotten about, and I wasn't going to let that happen. Jim didn't deserve it." Chris looked at John, who sighed and waved a hand in the air.

"Which brings us nicely around to now. Does anyone else know besides myself and Commander Kirk?" John said. Chris shook his head.

"No, you and Winona are it. Sometimes I think that it's a miracle that we've managed to keep it a secret for so long, personally. Jim gets a little stir-crazy if he can't go for a flight for more than a few weeks, and it can be rather difficult to figure out how to satisfy that when you are on a starship." Chris gave a slight smile as he exhaled, and John smiled in return. "John, I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"You were afraid that I would feel compelled to report it, Chris. I understand your reasoning, don't worry about it anymore." John's smile widened, and Chris lowered his head in a silent apology.

"Are you staying there until I return?" Chris said, placing his hands on the table by his console. John nodded.

"He's in no condition to be staying alone right now. He tires too easily, and I've already had to stop him from trying to go flying twice. Luckily, he doesn't have the energy to get himself off the ground, so I'm just making sure he doesn't sneak out and try to jump off a cliff to get lift-off instead," John said, watching Chris groan and roll his eyes as he spoke.

"Dad?" John turned sharply in his seat to see Jimmy standing at the entrance to the room, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. John motioned with his head, and Jimmy walked up to the camera. Chris gave his son a happy smile, and John slapped his hands on his knees and rose to his feet.

"I'll let you two talk now. See you in a few days, Chrissy?" John said, and Chris nodded.

"Thank you again, John. For everything." Chris turned that smile on him, and John felt the grin work his way onto his own face.

"Anytime, Captain. Anytime." John made sure that Jimmy was firmly ensconced in the seat he had just vacated, gave a quick salute at the screen and left the two to catch up.

* * *

Nogura sent a message through Tory letting John know that his sudden absence was not appreciated. Actually, it said something a little different than that, but John's brain turned it all into white noise about three words in. He may be one of the junior Admirals in comparison to the old man himself, but he had the right to take personal time. Nogura would just have to deal with it.

More importantly, John had gotten to see Jimmy fly for the first time, watching with thunder-struck awe as the young man soared and twisted, spun and dove with an effortlessness that was simply breathtaking. Jimmy had confessed that he could usually stay up all day, as long as he found a stable air current, but John found it much better for his own nerves that Jimmy was still recovering. If the teen had an accident in mid-air, there was nothing he could really do. Jimmy managed a fifteen minute flight before coming down and landing, where John watched with a bemused shock as the boy's legs decided that they weren't cooperating, and Jimmy ended up flat on his back.

"Fuck! I had it, too!" Jimmy groaned, punching his left fist into the dirt. The worry that had sprung up faded at the sound and sight of the clearly-embarrassed teen, his skin flushed and expression murderous, and John bit back a laugh and offered him a hand.

The day of Chris's return was marked with a much-improved Jimmy rushing around the house, making sure it was clean and things were put away. John sat back with a soda (no beer, as under-aged Jimmy had been doing the shopping) and watched the spectacle from the comfort of one of the family room sofas. After Jimmy zoomed past into the kitchen for what must have been the tenth time, John couldn't keep quiet any longer.

"What in the blazes are you doing, Jimmy?" John said, watching as Jimmy skidded to a halt at the sound of his voice.

"Er, just putting some things away," Jimmy mumbled, not meeting John's eyes. John looked at him with a frown, then his eyes widened.

"You've been outside flying! I thought we talked about this, Jim." John glared at the teen, who gave him a rather amusing nose-crinkle in response.

"I had left some things up on a niche in one of the bluffs, I was only up there for a few minutes," Jimmy said, shooting John a defiant look.

John rolled his eyes. "I assume these things weren't supposed to be up there?"

"Maybe."

John snorted. "Are you done fetching items from cliffs?" Jimmy walked into the kitchen, and John got to his feet and followed him. "Well?" Jimmy rolled his eyes, and John frowned. "Jimmy, you aren't hundred percent yet. I'm just worried that you are going to overdo it." Jimmy and John linked gazes for a moment, then Jimmy dropped his head.

"Yeah, I think I'm done," Jimmy said, and John reached out and ruffled his hair. "Hey, stop that!" Jimmy swatted at John's hand, but the older man moved easily out of the way.

"You need a haircut badly, kiddo. I doubt Chris will even recognize you at this rate," John said, a playful smirk on his face.

"He just saw me over the comm a few days ago, you ass, he's not going to be surprised." Jimmy scowled at John, who grinned.

"You know, your dad will have a cow if he hears you talk to me like that," John said with a chuckle.

"Maybe not a cow, but Jim definitely knows better than that; am I correct, son?" John and Jimmy both spun around to see Chris standing at the threshold of the kitchen, holding a duffel and looking rather bedraggled. No one moved at first, then Chris dropped his bag and walked up to Jimmy, carefully grabbing his upper arms and looking him over. Jimmy's ears began to turn red under the scrutiny, but Chris spared him and drew the teen into a hug. "You are not allowed to worry me like that again, Jim. When John told me what happened..." Chris said, chin resting by Jimmy's ear. Jim's hands twitched, and John could almost see the mental struggle on Jimmy's face. After all, it wasn't cool to go around hugging your dad once you reached a certain age. But this was different. John gave Jimmy a _look_, and the boy let his arms wrap around Chris's back, his head dropping against the taller man's shoulder. John quietly sidled out of the kitchen to leave them be.

About five minutes later, the two of them walked out of the kitchen, and if their eyes looked a tick red? Well, John decided that he wouldn't say anything about it. Chris dropped his duffel on one of the sofas and sat down, working his shoes off with his feet. Jimmy fell into the sofa next to him, his wings bent oddly at the middle from being sat on. John raised an eyebrow, and Jimmy gave him a confused look. "What?"

"Doesn't that hurt?" John said, and when the confusion didn't abate from the teen's face, John pointed at his wings. "You're sitting on your wings. That doesn't hurt?"

Jimmy made an 'oh' sound, and shook his head. "It's not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it's bending under the bones. It's kinda hard to describe, it's just pressure. It hurts more when I'm in my harness, because that presses on the wing bones," Jimmy said plainly, and John noticed a shadow flicker across Chris's face. John hadn't really thought about that. Jimmy had been in something that compressed the wings for years, and John was pretty damn sure that having bone forcibly suppressed by straps was not pleasant. The fact that Jimmy was still going through puberty could only make it worse.

"Well, it's a good thing that you don't have to wear it here," John said, looking between the two men. Jimmy nodded and Chris nodded absently, and John felt bad he brought it up. Silence fell over them, and he realized that the feathered elephant in the room needed to be dealt with. "What do you need from me, you two? I'll have to go back to the bay tomorrow, and I don't want to fuck anything up." Chris gave him an automatic glare for cussing in front of Jimmy, but then his eyes softened.

"I don't want to presume anything, John. I feel bad enough as it is." Chris's expression was pinched, and Jimmy sagged a bit in his seat. John gave Chris a stern look.

"I told you the other day to stop apologizing, Chrissy. I understand and agree with your reasons for keeping his flighty nature under wraps." After a pregnant pause, Jimmy groaned and smacked his hands over his face, and Chris smiled ruefully.

"I can't believe you just said that," Jimmy groaned.

"I can. Try knowing him for almost twenty years," Chris said with a smirk, and John 'hmphed' in response.

"None of you understand my wisdom and brilliance. You both suck." John shot them both a mock glare, which caused Jimmy to fail miserably at _not _giggling, and Chris's smirk to really light up his eyes. John gave them both a grin before squaring his shoulders. "I'll continue on in public as if nothing happened, unless you two have a better idea. Is this acceptable?" John looked at Chris, who shot him what could only be called a relieved look, Jimmy tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

"What will you tell them about this last week?" Jimmy said, and John snorted.

"I am not required to account for my whereabouts when I take personal leave, therefore I have no intention of saying anything," John said, but Jimmy was still giving him a thoughtful look. "Am I missing something, Jimmy?"

"What about Ms. Nakashima?" Jimmy said, and John nodded.

"Good question. I trust Tory, and besides, all she knows is that I came down here to help you out with something. I'll tell her that you had a nasty spill if she asks. Otherwise, I won't volunteer the information." John looked at Jimmy, who gave him a glad smile.

"Thanks, John. I was worried about how Dad would look with you having to rush down and all." Jimmy shot a glance at Chris, who sighed and put his hand on Jimmy's head.

"I told you not to worry about that, Jim. Don't think we aren't going to have a talk later about how you handled this situation." Chris let his hand drop to the teen's right shoulder, and Jimmy winced. "Still tender? Well, we will be having a nice quiet week or so here without too many distractions of the aerial kind, won't we?" Chris said flatly. Jimmy's face fell, and he slouched into the sofa.

John bit back a laugh at the sight, and focused on Chris; despite his admonition of Jimmy, the look on the Captain's face was both relieved and concerned all at the same time. Chris was a damned good father. Jimmy may not be his blood, but Chris clearly couldn't care less. John let the moment stretch for awhile longer, then got to his feet. Someone had to save Jimmy from his evil Dad, after all. "Well, since we are all here, it's been some time since we played together. Whaddya say?"

Jimmy seemed to approve of that idea, getting to his feet and running upstairs. Chris rose from the sofa and walked up to John, who gave him a soft smile. "You've done a damned fine job with him," John said quietly, and Chris chuckled deprecatingly.

"Doesn't feel like it sometimes. Jim is a great kid, but I'm often so busy with my duties-" Chris trailed off with a tired sigh, letting his head drop onto John's shoulder. John reached up and put his hand on Chris's back, rubbing it lightly.

"Don't start, Chrissy. You've managed to make it work, and what happened was no one's fault but the fucking bastards who shot him. I wish Jimmy could report something to the police, but I can see where that would become a problem rather quickly." John paused, and Chris lifted his head. "Don't you start getting insecure on me, Chrissy, I already had to tell Jimmy off about the same damn thing."

Chris smiled, and clapped a hand on John's shoulder. "We keep you on your toes, old man."

"Get a room, you guys!" John and Chris looked up in unison to see Jimmy walking down the stairs holding two guitars by their necks, and Chris cringed.

"Be careful with those, Jim!" Chris said, completely ignoring Jimmy's comment. John walked over to the teen and took the bass out of his hands, and Jimmy handed off the standard to Chris before falling onto a sofa.

"I'm guessing there's something specific you want to hear?" John said as he slipped the strap over his shoulder.

Jimmy grinned and nodded. "Well, since Dad's voice sounds kinda scratchy-"

"That would be because I'm tired, you pain-in-the-ass-" Chris growled as he followed John's lead with the guitar, and John barked out a laugh.

"-I was thinking of something from that group with the bearded guys. Whatcha think?" Jimmy gave Chris a coy look, and Chris looked over at John.

"Sharp?" Chris said, and John nodded.

"Sounds like a plan."

As they counted off and began to play, John looked at Jimmy. The teen's eyes were closed, and he was mouthing the words along with them, and singing at the appropriate chorus spots. It felt like a strangely domestic moment, in a possibly-testosterone-ridden sort of way, but John wouldn't miss this for the world. When they finished, Jimmy shot them both a thrilled look before ordering them to play another song. Chris and John locked gazes for a long moment, not saying a thing; Chris gave him a wide smile before tapping his foot and launching into the next song. Jimmy really needed to learn how to play drums.

* * *

**Only a few notes this time! :)  
**  
Archer's "You suck" comment was directly inspired by an Enterprise gag/outtake clip, which you can find on YouTube by typing "drunk enterprise." :D

Several people have asked, so I'll tell you. Bones will make an appearance in the next story, but he won't be seriously in until #5. Sorry!

This is probably the most light-hearted one of the series. John seems to like keeping things positive when he's the one talking. :)

I really like the sketch I did for this story, it can be found at my DeviantArt account (linked in my profile) under the title "Patched Up."

Here were the musical references from _Where men can't walk_, excepting the title:

1. "Looks like a painting, that blue skyline" is a lyric from the Elton John song _American Triangle_, where I have also gotten the series title from as well. The song is a sad one, but has some elements that I often think about in relation to this series.  
2. John is telling Jimmy that he sounds like John Denver. :)  
3. Falco = Falco. (Austrian singer (D,) best known in the US for his song _Rock Me Amadeus)  
_4. Bonnie the Clerk = Bonnie Tyler (I might have been listening to _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ when I was writing this part.)_  
_5. Mr. Isley = Named after the Isley Brothers (who, among other things, recorded the song_ Twist and Shout _before the Beatles and made it a hit.)  
6. Derko and Misar were named after the Falco song _Der Kommissar_.

I may be missing one, but there ya go! :) (I think it's pretty obvious by this point that I'm naming OCs after music-related things.)

Thanks for reading!


	4. At his father's right hand

**A shout out to my wonderful beta welovethelegend, as she is amazing wrapped in awesome bundled in sunshine covered in kittens. :D**

* * *

**Some notes before you read:**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, just having a little fun with them. :)**

Actual Summary: Chris is generally of the opinion that he is pretty damned good at what he does, hell, Starfleet even agrees with him. But captaining a starship and raising a genius son who just happens to have wings are entirely two different things, as reality has enforced on multiple occasions.

Also could be called: Chris tries to be a good dad. Really, he does.

In this story:

Jim - 19-22  
Chris Pike - 44-47  
Winona Kirk - 48-51  
Jonathan Archer - 55-58

* * *

**At his father's right hand**

Captain Christopher Pike entered the turbolift, nodding to Number One as the doors closed, and wondered if Phil would be willing to make him a martini. Weeks of deep-space scientific exploration with nothing to break the monotony was leaving him drained. Jim- Jim was about at the end of his rope, although he would never show it. Hitting the controls, Chris closed his eyes as the lift traveled to the appropriate floor. The Yorktown was getting too small for Jim, hell, it had been too small for years; when this tour of duty was up, Jim was not returning with him for his next ship posting. They had talked about briefly over the last year, but Jim was nineteen now, and he needed to figure out what to do with his life. Even when dependants were allowed, as Jim had been at eleven, they were expected to leave soon after reaching their majority. The only reason that Jim was still on the ship now was because they were too far out to drop a single young man off at Earth, and the three years of their deployment was almost at an end. All that remained now was to find out his next posting. Chris entered Sickbay to find Phil wrists-deep in an Ensign's abdomen, and wisely decided to just go back to his quarters. He left Sickbay without saying a word.

"You here, Jim?" Chris said as he entered their quarters, but when no response was forthcoming, Chris dropped into the Starfleet-issue sofa, decorated with a patterned throw designed after the woven baskets of the ancient Mojave people, and kicked his feet up with a sigh, closing his eyes. Only a few more days of this, and the ship could move on to something hopefully more interesting. Just when he was working into a good doze, the wall comm unit buzzed. "Figures that something would happen now," Chris muttered as he rose and answered the page. "Pike."

"Sorry for the disturbance, Captain. I've just received a message from Starfleet Command, flagged private for you. Do you wish for me to forward it to your quarters, sir?" Lieutenant Bowie's voice was as pleasant as it ever was, and Chris smiled.

"If you could, Mr. Bowie."

"Transferring now, sir."

Chris heard the ping of his console in the background, and pressed the comm button. "Thank you."

"Sir." The Lieutenant signed off, and Chris walked over to his console and sat down, the back of his shirt riding up from the chair. Activating the message with one hand, he reached behind and yanked his shirt down with the other. He had over-heard someone jokingly refer to it as the Pike Maneuver years ago, and for a short time, he had obstinately avoided yanking on his shirt, before deciding that the sensation of having his shirt bunched up above his waistband was far more irritating. It could have been worse, as he had on two unfortunate occasions entered the bridge with a fly-front malfunction. Chris was pretty sure that it was Number One's doing that made sure that little tidbit didn't get off the bridge. Thank god.

Admiral Osterberg's face appeared on screen, and Chris automatically sat at attention. The man's weathered, expressive face was not a regular visitor to the Yorktown, as he was responsible for primary personnel assignments and postings. Chris knew exactly what the message was pertaining to, and he swallowed against the sudden jolt of nervousness.

"Captain Pike. Starfleet would like to thank you for your continuing dedication and hard work. As you are aware, the current mission of the Yorktown is coming to an end, and decisions on the future of your vessel and of its crew are being made." Osterberg paused, bringing up a hand to push back his unusually long hair (for an Admiral, at any rate) behind his ears, his fingers raking his cheek. "First, I would like to address the continuing status of the Yorktown. Starfleet, pending her response, has decided to promote Commander Eunice Lefler to the post of Captain of the Yorktown upon the ship's return to Earth." Chris laughed with honest delight. Number One deserved her own ship without him getting in the way of her brilliance, and he had known that his days on the Yorktown were probably numbered. As far as he was concerned, they should have promoted her years ago. "Of course, Captain, this leaves the question of your next assignment." Osterberg's mouth twitched up at a corner, and Chris blinked at the screen. "We were unable to decide what to do with you at first. Your record is spotless, your achievements well marked, and even Admiral Nogura couldn't find anything to bitch about." Osterberg's face split into a grin, the lines of his face deepening with the motion. Chris snorted incredulously and shook his head. "We can keep that last bit to ourselves, though. Getting back on topic, we found ourselves with a dilemma with you, because at this time, bluntly, we have no ship for you." Chris's mouth dropped open.

"_What_?"

"-so we wish to make a deal with you. After the Yorktown's current mission concludes, we ask that you remain on Earth in a dual role as both a recruiting officer and an instructor at the Academy. In return, we would like to assign you as the commanding officer of the Enterprise, which recently began construction at the Riverside Shipyards. Its estimated completion date is early 2258, with the dedication tentatively scheduled for the summer of that year. We know it can be a lot to ask for an experienced Captain to come dirtside for such a long period of time, but-" Chris tuned out the rest of Osterberg's speech, his body rigid with shock. The Enterprise. They wanted to give him the Enterprise.

"Hey Dad."

They wanted to give him the future flagship.

"Dad, you awake over there?"

He and Jim had just watched the ribbon-cutting ceremony over the news feeds a month ago.

"Dad? You alright?"

Chris slumped in his seat, and looked at the console. The message had ended, the final frame frozen on the screen. Starfleet wanted _him_ to become the Captain of their new flagship?

"Hey, what's wrong?" A hand fell on his shoulder, and he started in his seat. He craned his head around to see Jim standing behind him, a concerned look on his face. "You look like you just saw Number One offer to throw a dance party on the bridge." Chris blinked up at him, and Jim gave him a poke. "You still alive, old man?" Chris shook his head and got to his feet, his legs unexpectedly shaky. Jim was clearly taking in the whole spectacle, and Chris exhaled loudly.

"Holy shit, Jim." Jim's eyebrows shot up.

"Okay, I know something is going on now. What was that message?" Jim turned towards the console, and Chris motioned weakly towards it.

"Watch it while I go splash some water on my face." Chris leaned over and ordered the message to replay, and walked into the bathroom. Right as he was reaching for a towel to wipe his face off, a shout of "Fucking hell!" echoed through their quarters. "Jim, language!"

"You started it!" Chris walked back out to find Jim slouched at the console, his mouth hanging open. Jim turned and looked at him with an incredulous look. "They want to give you the flagship. The Enterprise. The goddamn-"

"_Jim_." Chris looked at Jim wearily, and Jim snapped his jaw shut.

"Dad, that's amazing! I mean, the Enterprise. It's the posting of a lifetime!" Chris walked back to the sofa and collapsed onto it. Jim flopped down on the floor in front of him, scratching at his upper back through his shirt before casting an inquisitive look at him. "You do want this, right?"

Chris closed his eyes, and let the possibilities run through his head. He would be dirtside for years, although he would probably have short-term off-planet missions occasionally. He would be teaching...something at the Academy. He would be on the front lines in the recruiting battle. Number One would finally get the command she had deserved for years; and most importantly, he would be able to keep an eye on Jim as he got himself established, whether or not he decided to stop hiding his wings. ...and he would get the flagship. It was nigh unbelievable, but as quirky as Osterberg was, he wouldn't joke about something like this. Chris opened his eyes and looked at Jim, who was still giving him a thoughtful look. "What do you think, Jim?"

Jim smirked, a pose that reminded Chris startlingly of his mother, or, at least, the Winona of twenty years ago. Chris had no intention of pointing this out. "I think there is only one appropriate response to that." Chris waited. "Fu-" Chris glared, and Jim tried again. "Hel-" Chris gave him an exasperated look. "Er, where do I sign?"

"John is a horrible influence on you, you know that right?" Chris groaned, and Jim gave him a goofy grin. "However, I suppose you are right. I would be an idiot to turn this down, wouldn't I?"

Jim clicked his tongue. "That's not the word I'd use."

"I am very well aware that isn't the word you would use. I don't want to _hear_ the word you would use," Chris said, getting to his feet. "I'll contact Number One, and see what she's been told about her part in this." He looked down at Jim, who was still stretched out on the floor. "How was your day? Do I need to have any exercise equipment repaired again?" Chris lightly nudged Jim's thigh with his foot, and he chuckled.

"No**,** no, all in one piece. Shannon is getting tired of having to wait for it to get fixed, so he's been trying to keep Stipe from baiting me." Jim rolled over on his stomach, and Chris quirked an eyebrow.

"Bait you?"

Jim sighed. "Stipe likes challenging me to things, like, y'know, physical challenges. He's convinced that the gibbi shouldn't be able to hit a punching bag or run on a treadmill. I'm already in there when he challenges, so I have fun with it."

Chris gave Jim a confused look. "What does 'gibbi' mean?" Jim flinched almost imperceptibly, and Chris's eyes narrowed. "Jim."

"I didn't mean to say that," Jim muttered, lifting himself up by his arms and sliding his legs forward to rise to his feet, a deceptively easy looking move that Chris could only partially copy. Jim faced him, and Chris was reminded again of just how grown-up Jim had become. Jim stood about five centimeters taller than him now, he was probably at his full height. He was still considerably lighter, but that was due to the realities of his body; Jim's body fat percentage was less than four percent, a number that was considered borderline dangerous to most people, but Jim wasn't like most people, something that Chris had been reminded of increasingly frequently over the last few years. If he gained too much weight, he had problems flying. The first shore leave after starting their current hitch on the Yorktown had proven that, and he had only gained about five kilos. But he still had two years and fifteen centimeters on young Mr. Stipe, whose parents had signed on for this deployment. He didn't know too much about the teen, except for noticing that the boy was in the exercise room almost as much as Jim was, and that his father was a bit mouthy.

"Jim, I would appreciate an answer. Has Mr. Stipe been giving you problems?" Chris said, and Jim snorted and waved a hand.

"I'm a big boy now, Dad, I can deal with the assholes. Gibbi is just a dumb nickname he bestowed on me awhile back. Probably was looking at a dictionary or something." Jim hooked his thumbs on his pockets, and Chris narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Dictionary?" Chris paused. "Oh- as in gibbous." Chris raised his eyebrows, and Jim nodded. "You're serious."

"Yeah. Told you it was dumb. Well, he tries, but he generally looks like an idiot when he gets going. At least Shannon agrees with me on that point." Jim walked towards his bedroom, but stopped and turned around before entering, a distant smile on his face. "Congratulations, Dad. I'll leave you guys alone while you talk, I think I'm gonna take a nap." Jim entered the bedroom, the door closing behind him.

"What the hell was that all about?" Chris mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. It was too much at once. He walked over to the wall comm unit and hit the button. "Pike to Number One."

"Yes, sir." Her voice was as dry as ever, but with a hint of something-

"Have you received any messages from Starfleet Command, Commander?" Number One let out an amused 'hmph,' and Chris smiled. "Do I take that as a yes?"

"Perhaps, Captain." Chris rolled his eyes.

"If you can spare a few minutes, Number One, I'd like to speak with you regarding said message." Chris said, leaning against the wall.

"If the message sharing goes both ways, Captain." Chris could hear the smile in her voice now, and his smile widened.

"I think I can do that."

"I'll be there in five."

The connection clicked off, and Chris glanced towards Jim's closed door. Only two months until they were back at Earth, and he was getting the feeling that Jim was keeping count. Chris ran his hand through his hair, feeling a few curls free themselves. He'll talk with him later. The door chime sounded, and Chris tried to smooth his hair back down.

"Enter."

Number One walked in, lightly smacking a PADD against her palm, and Chris motioned for her to sit. John better be awake, because he was getting an earful after this.

* * *

Two weeks before they were scheduled to be in Spacedock, Chris found himself on the surface on a previously unexplored planet surrounded by beings that resembled human sized gila monsters, except with opposable thumbs. Their patterning is even similar, Chris thought, as he sized up his options. He didn't see any weapons, but he had a feeling that they could make those large tails of theirs hurt if they wanted to. The biggest one was snarling and clicking at them, but had not moved; his security team and Mr. Tyler were looking increasingly nervous with the situation. "What do you think, Number One?"

Number One looked at the gila-men, and back at him. "If they are going to attack, they are clearly waiting for something. The translator is still trying to process their language, so we can't talk yet."  
"So we just stand here and try and look friendly." Chris gave a slight smile, and the gila-men shifted, causing the security team to tighten their grip on their phasers.

Number One looked at the translator, then looked at Chris. "Stop smiling. They see it as aggressive."

"Ah." Chris schooled his expression as blank as he could make it, turning slowly towards the rest of the team. "Stay calm, gentlemen. I don't want any diplomatic incidents occurring because of nervous trigger fingers." Tyler's shoulders relaxed, the men in the security team allowed their fingers to have blood flow, and Chris bit back a sigh. Only two weeks out, on what was probably their last exploration mission, and they hit trouble. Chris chuckled mentally, and looked over at Number One. "Any progress?"

Number One was staring at the device like it would solve universal conflict, when the sound of movement spun him around.

"Captain!" Chris looked up to see one of the gila-men standing not a meter away, holding out a clawed hand palm-down; Chris stared at it for a split second before noticing movement to his side.

"Stand down!" Chris said, as he decided to parallel the motion. It looked like a greeting, and he was willing to take that chance. Right as his hand was reaching the same height as the native's, a sharp sound accompanied by a blast of yellow light struck the scaled creature, and it slumped to the ground. The other gila-men immediately started roaring, and Chris twisted around, furious. "I said stand down! Who fired their weapon?" His eyes instantly found the perpetrator, and Chris clenched his teeth. "Mr. Stipe, explain yourself at once!" he said, as he knelt down by the stunned gila-man. He felt around the neck until he found a pulse, and sighed quietly. "I'm waiting, Mr. Stipe!"

"I thought-" Stipe was still clutching his phaser; with a crook of his head towards Mr. Tyler, he was relieved of it.

Chris glared at the man as he rose to his feet. The other lizard-men were roaring and snarling, but were still maintaining their position. "You thought what, Lieutenant?"

Stipe looked lost for a moment, before his face twisted into an ugly expression. "They didn't look right, sir."

Chris boggled. "You ignored a direct order because you thought they didn't look right? Are you playing games with me?"

Stipe glared at Chris, who was completely thrown by the whole affair. "I said, they don't look right. Big ugly creatures like that are bound to be aggressive." Number One looked almost as shocked as he felt, Chris noted absently as he walked up to Stipe.

"You fired on a non-aggressive being against orders because you didn't like how they looked? What is this, the eighteenth century? Where do you get off assuming like that, Mr. Stipe?" Chris locked eyes with the taller man, who completely threw rank aside as he glared right back.

"You having a deformed brat obviously has made you forget that if it looks like a big scary mean lizard, it's a big fucking scary lizard!" Stipe spat; Chris felt his blood run cold, and just barely resisted decking the fucker. He thought he saw Number One moving in, but his world had shrunk to just Stipe and himself.

"You are out of line, Lieutenant," Chris whispered, his voice bleeding ice; and for a moment, he completely forgot they were still surrounded by the natives. Before any of the away team could move, Stipe was bear-hugged from behind, and was lifted off the ground easily by the large gila-man.

"I told you! Goddamned lizards! Let go of me!" Stipe twisted and squirmed in the native's arms, but all he was succeeding in doing was tiring himself out. As angry as Chris was, he needed to defuse the situation, and fast.

"Number One?" The dark-haired woman appeared at his side, and after looking one last time at the translator, she gave Chris a tiny smile.

"It appears, Captain, that they were trying to tell us that one of our away team was not "of the same heart" as the rest of us. They appear to be empaths, sir." Her eyes held a dark humor, and Chris returned the look in kind. Looks like this might just work out after all.

"Mr. Waylon, Mr. Mathis!"

"Sir!" The two men appeared at his side, and he about-faced to address them.

"When our new friend releases Mr. Stipe, you are to return him to the ship and throw him in the brig. Is that understood?" He knew his face told of dark things, but the two men didn't even blink.

"Yes sir!" The two men's expressions were as dark as his, and Chris turned back to Number One, who nodded, glanced at the translator, and then uttered a series of growls and clicks at Stipe's captor. With a smooth motion, Stipe was set back on his feet, and was immediately flanked by Waylon and Mathis, who secured his arms. Waylon spoke into his communicator, and in a swirl of light, the three men were gone. The gila-man raised his arm palm-down like the one Stipe stunned, and Chris happily mirrored the gesture.

* * *

"Two weeks, Mr. Stipe. That's all you had to wait before you would be free of me and my _deformed_ son. But you couldn't keep your antiquated opinions to yourself, now could you?" Chris stood outside Stipe's cell, watching the man pace back and forth. "Your actions nearly caused a serious diplomatic disaster by attacking an unarmed civilian, you directly disobeyed orders, and you even managed to insult an individual that you aren't in regular contact with. I will ask you again; where do you get off?" Chris stared flatly at the pacing man, who stalked up to the force field separating them.

"Where do you get off lying and cheating for your brat, Captain? That kid has had the gall to humiliate my son for too long; I know he wasn't actually doing the work in those classes he was in, there's no way." Chris was very glad that the force field blocked spit, because otherwise he would be soaked.

"Why is there no way, might I ask?" The conversation was getting more and more ridiculous, and Chris made sure he was maintaining eye contact.

"Are you saying that he's really doing warp theory and advanced physics courses?"

Chris smirked. "If you had bothered asking any of the officers who were on our previous deployment, they could have told you that he has been taking university-level courses since he was fifteen. But you refused to see it like that, didn't you?" Chris leaned on the bulkhead next to the force field, his eyes never leaving Stipe's. "Appearances aren't everything, Mr. Stipe. I feel sorry for your son, if that is the lesson you have been teaching him." Chris leaned in as close as he could go, giving him a grin a shark would envy. "And don't think I don't know who gave my son that ridiculous nickname, Mr. Stipe." Moving away from the wall, Chris faced the balding man. "Lieutenant Mikel Stipe. Your bigotry, your unwillingness to maintain proper decorum, and your continuing defiance has no place on board this vessel, nor in Starfleet." Chris increased his volume. "Mr. Jennings!" A large-framed older man entered the cell block and faced Chris, who nodded in acknowledgement and tipped his head towards the imprisoned Lieutenant. "The instant a square millimeter of the hull touches Spacedock, I want him off my ship."

Jennings saluted. "Captain." Chris walked back up to the force field, and shook his head.

"Two weeks, Mr. Stipe. You were guaranteed to be free of me."

Stipe scoffed. "Why is that?"

Chris gave him an amused look. "Because I'm being stationed dirtside for awhile, Mr. Stipe."

Stipe barked out a laugh. "They finally realized how bad of a Captain you are, _sir_?"

Chris lifted an eyebrow, and snorted. "Something like that, Mr. Stipe; something like that." Without a second glance, Chris left the cell block, stopping at Mr. Jennings' desk. "Do me a favor, Mr. Jennings."

"Sir?"

"When the announcement is made at the end of the week regarding the new CO for this ship, make sure Mr. Stipe is awake to hear it." The older man grinned, and nodded.

"Of course, sir. Should I also make sure the cameras are focused on the cell block properly, sir?" Chris arched an eyebrow.

"Are we having some sort of malfunction of the security cameras, Mr. Jennings?" Chris said, and the man shook his head.

"No sir, all systems are working properly."

Chris gave the man a slight smile, his eyebrow still raised. "Then we have nothing to worry about." Chris turned and left the brig, and headed towards his quarters. He needed a shower after dealing with him, and he wanted to talk to Jim.

When Friday rolled around, and Number One announced where he had been posted, signing off with a classic "good luck and godspeed," Jennings informed him that the entire deck probably heard Stipe's shout. Chris barely squashed a very un-Captainly response; instead, he and Number One viewed the recording together in his ready room after shift, and shared a good laugh and a bottle of brandy. Jim later congratulated him again, and informed him that he had registered for classes at the UC branch in Barstow. Chris thought he may have been even happier at that news than at his promotion.

* * *

"Only five more days, sir." Number One was standing next to his chair on the bridge, and Chris glanced up at her. The bridge, nay, the whole ship had been in a reflective mood, and even the stern future captain was falling prey to the trend.

"Looking forward to keeping this chair permanently, Commander?" Chris said, and Number One gave a distant look.

"I might confess to some...enjoyment at the thought, sir." Number One's face was carefully bland, and Chris arched an eyebrow, and shifted forward on his seat.

"Oh? Do tell, Number One." Chris met her eyes, and tilted his head. "I don't think Starfleet is going to know what to do with you, Commander. You'll be an Admiral before the Enterprise is even complete."

"I think you might be full of crap, sir." Number One's expression never changed, and Chris felt a laugh escape his lips before he could stop it.

"You wouldn't be the first to express that opinion, Commander." Number One's lips quirked up into a slight smile as she stepped away from the chair and headed back to her seat at the helm. Chris looked over at Mr. Tyler, who had been clearly listening to the exchange.

"Estimated time to Vulcan, Lieutenant?" Chris gave an indulgent smile to Tyler, who glanced at his screen and replied without even a stutter.

"Twenty hours and thirty-two minutes, sir."

Chris leaned back in his chair. "Thank you, Mr. Tyler. You've gotten better at recovering."

The blond man smiled back. "It has been twelve years, sir. If I hadn't, I would be a bit worried." Chris nodded in agreement, and the bridge fell into a companionable silence.

"Ensign Waylon to Captain Pike." Chris jerked at the unexpected voice, and hit the button on his armrest.

"Pike here." Waylon's voice hesitated for a moment. "Ensign?"

"Sorry**,** sir. We need you on Deck Four as soon as possible." Chris froze. The gym was on Deck Four.

"I'll be right there." Chris rose to his feet, and nodded to Number One. "You have the conn, Commander."

"Yes sir." Number One brushed her shoulder against his arm as she took his seat, and Chris gave her a look of gratitude as he left the bridge.

The sight that greeted Chris upon reaching Deck Four made his head decide to start throbbing ominously, and he closed his eyes for a moment before surveying the situation more clearly. Jim was leaning against the wall, sporting a magnificent shiner and had his left hand wrapped around his right shoulder, which he was holding perfectly still. Mr. Shannon Richards was standing about a meter away from him, looking between Jim and young Mr. Stipe, whose nose was at an abnormal angle and was bleeding rather copiously into his bunched up shirt. Jim's gaze was fixed on the far wall, and did not turn his head even when Chris moved closer. Chris exhaled and turned to Ensign Waylon, who was in sweatpants and an undershirt. "What happened, Ensign?"

Waylon gestured to Jim, who was still refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "Jim, I mean, Mr. Pike was running on the treadmill, Mr. Richards was on the one next to him. I was stretching on the mats." Chris nodded and signaled for him to continue. "I saw Mr. Stipe came into the gym, where he took one look at Mr. Pike before running over and sucker-punching him in the face."

Mr. Stipe the Younger snarled. "That's a fucking lie!" Chris glared at the teen, who backed down.

"No, it isn't, Micky." Richards' long face, his eyes framed by large glasses and long brown hair, was clearly annoyed. "Ensign Waylon is completely correct, sir. Of course, Jim punched him back, which Micky of course followed up on, and we had to break them up before it got worse." Chris sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"And people wonder why Starfleet only allows children aboard a handful of starships**,**" Chris murmured, looking between the three young men. Stipe bristled at his gaze, and turned to glare at Jim. "May I ask what your problem is with Mr. Pike, Mr. Stipe?" The prematurely balding teen shot Chris a look out of the corner of his eyes. "Mr. Stipe, I would appreciate an answer."

"He got my dad in trouble," Stipe mumbled, and Chris gave him an incredulous look.

"Your father is in the brig for assault and insubordination, charges that have absolutely nothing to do with Mr. Pike." Chris gave the boy a stern look, and Stipe looked away.

"They have to do with at least _some_ Mr. Pike-" The teen began, and just as Chris opened his mouth to cut him off, a woman appeared and smacked Stipe across the back of the head.

"That's enough out of you, mister!" Chris met the eyes of Chief Petty Officer Stipe, who straightened and gave Chris a salute. "My apologies for my son's behavior, Captain; his father has been spinning him some rather amazing yarns about how the universe and everyone named Pike is out to get him. I would apologize for my husband's behavior, but he's dug himself too deep this time." The tall, thin woman wrapped a hand around her son's arm, who immediately tried to shake her off to no avail. "Mick, apologize to Mr. Pike. He didn't deserve your anger." The boy snorted, and looked away from the assembled group. Chris walked up next to Jim, who gave him a tired look and said nothing. "Mick, now." The teen glared again at Jim, who met his gaze with a dull expression and raised eyebrows. The standoff continued until Stipe again tried to wrest his arm out of his mother's grip, again failing. The Chief Petty Officer sighed, a sad tone that Chris felt himself agreeing with, and tugged on her son's arm. "I better get you to Sickbay, Mick. Wouldn't want your nose healing sideways, even if you deserve it." She looked over at Chris, who nodded his dismissal, and she and her son were gone. Chris turned to Ensign Waylon and Mr. Richards, who had stayed quiet during the entire exchange, and shook his head.

"Thank you for your assistance, both of you. We will be getting out of your way now." The ensign nodded and went back into the gym. Mr. Richards looked like he was about to say something to Jim, but simply gave him a nervous smile and followed the ensign. Chris looked over at Jim, who hadn't made a sound since he got to the scene. "Let's go back to our quarters, Jim. I'll fix you up there." Jim pushed himself away from the wall, and followed Chris.  
As they entered, Chris locked the door and motioned for Jim to sit down as he walked into the bathroom to retrieve the dermal regenerator. He didn't say anything, simply motioned for Jim to take off his outer shirt so he could see the hurt shoulder. The angry brat had socked Jim right over his burn scar, which remained sensitive, and Chris ran the device over the swollen bruise that was forming. Jim's body slumped in relief as the regenerator worked its magic, and he let out an exhausted sigh.

"Sorry about this. I didn't want the Ensign to bother you, but he did anyway," Jim muttered, and rotated his shoulder as Chris finished with it. Chris gave a humorless smile and started on the black eye.

"How long has this been going on, Jim?" he said, as he worked the device around Jim's eye socket. Jim's brilliant blue eyes, far more intense than his parents, were fixed on the wall behind Chris's head. "Come on, Jim, just tell me."

"This is the first time he's done something this stupid. He's convinced that the sun shines out of his father's ass, so I'm not surprised. The instant I heard who had been hauled to the brig, I figured something was going to happen." Jim looked at Chris, who switched off the regenerator and sat back on the sofa next to him. "I'm just glad I won't have to deal with him ever again in a few days." Jim waved a hand dismissively, and Chris sighed and wrapped an arm around the young man's shoulders.

"No, I suppose not. I'm hoping I won't have to deal with his father again either." Chris glanced towards Jim's bedroom. "How goes your packing?"

Jim let his head fall forward. "Almost done, besides a few knick-knacks. Need me to start in here?" he said, and Chris hummed under his breath.

"Only if you want to, Jim. If you want to relax for now, go right ahead." Chris gave Jim's left shoulder a squeeze before drawing his arm back and standing up. "I still have a few hours left on shift. I would probably suggest you stay in here for awhile, in case young Mr. Stipe slips away from his mother." Chris walked to the door of their quarters, turning around before the doors opened. "I hear the mess is making pasta with pesto alfredo for dinner tonight." Jim looked up from the sofa and gave him a tired grin. "I'll see you at the mess at seventeen-hundred, then?"

Jim nodded. "Sounds good." Chris gave him a soft smile as the doors closed behind him.

* * *

Jim stayed in San Francisco for a week after they returned to Earth, mostly to see John and say goodbye to Number One and his handful of friends from the Yorktown; then he was gone for the desert. Chris was in and out of meetings for several weeks pertaining to his new posting, and was only able to call Jim once during that time. He wasn't too worried, however. He knew for a fact that the instant Jim had gotten settled, he had been out amongst the birds; he didn't need to distract Jim from his stress-relief. Chris was finally released from meetings about three weeks after he returned dirtside, and after sitting in on Mr. Stipe's court-martial, was ordered to report three and a half months hence. After extracting a promise to come visit out of John, Chris was on the first shuttle he could get on to Mojave.

Jim, in his brilliance, met him at the shuttle station on the bike. "Um, Jim, I don't think there is room for both of us and my duffel on the bike," Chris said, looking at the bike, then turning to Jim. Jim laughed and grabbed the duffel, slinging it across his back.

"You drive, old man; I'll carry your bag. The logistics of our body shapes work out better anyway that way on the bike." Jim slung a leg over the back, patting the seat in front of him. Chris glared at the not-so-tow-headed brat, before groaning and getting on. Luckily, the weather was pleasant, and they made it back to the house in excellent time.

After putting his bag into the master bedroom, Chris went downstairs to find Jim sprawled on his stomach over the sofa in the front room, wings drooping over the back and onto the floor; Chris maneuvered around them as he grabbed a beer from the kitchen and sat down on the floor near Jim and the coffee table. Jim looked completely focused on whatever he was doing, so Chris sipped at his beer for a few minutes before speaking. "What are you doing over there?" Jim looked up, and Chris could see the PADD he was holding. Jim glanced back at the screen then up at him.

"Thinking about courses I should take for the Fall term." Jim motioned at the PADD, and Chris scooted closer to look.

"Anything in particular you were considering?" Chris poked at Jim's left wing, and he moved it out of the way so Chris could lean against the sofa. Jim gave a loose shake of his head, and pointed at the screen.

"I need to do my placement exams first before I can really choose. I go down next week to take care of those, and I believe the results are instantaneous, so I'll be able to start planning for certain after that." Jim looked at his PADD. "What do you think about advanced sciences, like Molecular Biology?" Chris arched an eyebrow.

"Some of those courses require pretty serious dedication, Jim. Make sure you know what you are getting into before you commit to them." Chris pried the PADD away from Jim and scanned the list. "You are definitely looking at the advanced courses; Quantum Physics, Linear Algebra-" He looked up at Jim, who shrugged. "Don't overwhelm yourself right off the bat, Jim." Jim reached over and grabbed back his PADD.

"I'll be fine, Dad. I'm just looking right now anyway." Jim resumed his reading of the list, and Chris sighed quietly and got up to take his beer bottle to the recycler. He just hoped that Jim kept it under control, he knew from personal experience what happens when you try and take too many classes. Chris was still in agreement with himself on the disaster that was his first term of his second year at the Academy. They still hadn't fixed that statue.

* * *

Jim blazed through the placement exams with flying colors; Jim told him that the proctor looked like he had seen the Eugenics Wars start in front of him when he was reviewing the scores. Jim was positive that the only reason he didn't get accused of cheating was because the proctor would have been held responsible; Chris told him to stop being so pessimistic. Despite Chris's misgivings, Jim enrolled in a full course load of six classes, almost all upper-division courses designed to prepare for continuing on to graduate school. Jim became scarce over the next few months, often only coming home to sleep and go for flights; Chris had to practically tie him down to get him to relax occasionally, usually through music. John came down the week after Jim's midterm exams, providing a much needed break for both of them; Jim emerged from his schoolwork cloud long enough to make plenty of inappropriate jokes and get horrible ideas from John, and they managed to have several jam sessions before the older man had to return to San Francisco. It was near-impossible for Chris to have a decently long conversation with Jim during this time, as he had taken to studying in a niche up on the cliffs above the house. Chris tried not to focus on the fact that Jim didn't seem to be making any serious friends at college, as he was spending all of his spare time studying anyway. Chris spent most of his second year at the Academy holed up in his dorm. Jim would calm down after this semester.

The day before Chris was scheduled to report to Starfleet Command, Jim had his first final exam. Chris got up extra early to say goodbye and wished him luck. Jim gave him a hug and a cocky grin before he headed off on the motorcycle. Chris packed his duffel and called a taxi, keeping his fingers mentally crossed all the while.

He didn't hear from Jim for almost a week. When Chris finally managed to reach him, it took thirty minutes to wheedle out of him that he had aced all of his classes; Jim was much more interested in telling him about a girl that he had bumped into in the Biology and Genetics building. After listening to Jim tell him all about the girl, who according to his son's rather fantastical description was Aphrodite mixed with Marie Curie and with the disposition of a saint (Chris was a bit skeptical,) Chris finally managed to get a word in edgewise.

"Jim, how long did you talk to this girl?" Silence met Chris's question, and he couldn't quite squash a knowing smirk. Jim fidgeted and looked away from the screen. "Well?" Chris said, resting his chin on the back of his folded hands. Jim's handsome face twisted comically for a few seconds before he responded.

"A minute...or two. Maybe," Jim mumbled, his volume decreasing as he spoke. Chris couldn't keep back his laughter any longer, and only when it looked like Jim was going to throw the console across the room did he stop. His shoulders still shaking, he addressed his son again.

"Oh, Jim. Did you even get her name?" Chris watched Jim's shoulders slump. "I'll take that as a no." Jim's wings flared open as he leaned back into his seat, and he gave Chris a morose look.

"She was running late for her final." Jim slouched even further down into his seat, causing Chris to see more of the top of his head than the rest of his face. Chris looked at the depressed young man, suddenly feeling rather old. Jim had had a collection of crushes over the last five years or so, like most teens, but no relationships. Chris knew that Jim's apparent deformity caused by disguising his wings wasn't helping the situation, but he was leaving that choice up to Jim. He was of age and no longer confined to a starship, and Chris didn't want him to be stuck in that harness forever, but he wasn't going to push it. He gave a bittersweet sigh and tried to meet Jim's eyes.

"Jim, school starts up again after the holidays, I'm sure you'll be able to speak with her then. And stop slouching and pouting; girls generally don't like that." Chris got a nice glare from Jim at the last comment, but he scooted back up in his chair. Chris decided to change the subject. "Anything you want to do for your birthday? You've only got a little over three weeks before you are officially no longer a teenager, after all." Jim's face became serious, and Chris exhaled. Every year they went through this. "Jim, the last thing George would have wanted for you is to be so depressed on your birthday, especially a milestone like this one. I would prefer to not have to face your father and have to explain why, either," Chris said, and watched a collection of expressions run over Jim's face as he thought, and Chris wished that they weren't having this conversation over a comm. Chris gave Jim a smile. "John is planning to join us for New Years and your birthday, so I don't think you are going to have much say in the matter anyhow."

"Is he going to his mom's for Christmas?" Jim said, and Chris nodded. "When will you be back down?" Chris thought about it for a second before responding.

"The afternoon of Friday the twenty-fourth. I can't get away before that, unfortunately. Both John and I will be heading back here on the morning of the fifth." Jim nodded congenially enough, but Chris could see the disappointment in his eyes. Time to change the subject again. Chris grinned, and Jim shot him a suspicious look. "We'll have to give you some advice on how to woo your lady friend. I'm sure John would love to tell you some of his stories as well." He paused and furrowed his brow. "Although I would be careful with any advice he offers, as this is the same man who managed to scare off Captain Hernandez on two separate occasions, and they were both equally interested." Jim rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically, before a naughty smirk found its way across his features.

"Is that right? Well, he doesn't need to worry about that anymore, does he?" Chris cringed at the lecherous tone coming from his son's mouth before the actual words caught up with his father-of-a-teenager addled brain...and he _wasn't_ turning red at Jim's ridiculous statement. He wasn't. After relocating his tongue from his throat, Chris straightened up in his seat and fixed a glare on his brat of a kid that would flay the flesh off a Klingon.

"What are you implying, you perverted pigeon?" Chris growled, and Jim was suddenly on the floor; laughing so hard his wings, the only things visible to Chris, were fluttering uncontrollably in the air behind him. Chris barely controlled the impulse to slam his own head into the desk. He settled for massaging his temples instead.

"Your face! _Holy shit_ that was brilliant, but since I'm brilliant, it's not too much of a stretch." Chris watched as Jim's arms reappeared back onscreen as they grasped the table the console rested on, pulling his head and torso back into view. "Oh come now, Dad; it's not like I haven't been saying crap like that for years, yeah?" Jim said as he sat back down in his chair. Chris schooled his expression as flat as he could make it.

"Whatever thoughts you have in that windburned excuse for a brain are still wrong, like they were every other time you brought it up. John and I are just friends." Chris nodded firmly, and Jim gave him a skeptical look.

"Keep telling yourself that, Dad."

* * *

Between John and Chris, they managed to turn Jim's twentieth birthday into a multi-day event. Jim was persuaded to drag John to every major landmark in their area of the desert, with John bitching and laughing all the way to each one. Chris realized around the time they were leaving the Trona Pinnacles that Jim had visited more places in the desert than he ever had, and his childhood hadn't been marked by years on-board a starship like Jim's. Chris wasn't quite sure what to think about that, but he did know that he had left Jim alone far too much in that stretch between the last two Yorktown missions. That's why Jim now has that scar on his shoulder that looks like stretched putty, and a tiny bald spot on his wing. Chris startled at a sudden hand on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see John standing next to him, a concerned look on his face.

"You're a million light-years away, Chrissy. You alright?" Chris sighed, his whole frame sagging; John slipped his hand around to the back of Chris's neck, rubbing at his nape with a thumb. "Jimmy's been having fun showing me around, and you-" Chris shook his head and gave the older man a soft smile.

"Just thinking too much, John. Don't worry about it." John looked doubtful, but he gave Chris's nape a final gentle squeeze and stepped back.

"If you say so, Chris," John said, and Chris turned as Jim approached them, his slender form swaying slightly as he walked.

"What's going on?" Jim looked between the two men with a raised eyebrow. Chris reached out and patted Jim on the shoulder as he walked towards their rented car, ignoring the suspicious look on Jim's face.

"Nothing, nothing. Just thinking." Chris stopped by the car, and looked back at John and his son; who were exchanging a look. "Why don't we head back to the house? I think we might have something to eat there, and besides, we have girl issues to discuss." Jim scowled dramatically, but John's face split into a smile that made him look like he was trying to impersonate Dr. Phlox, making Chris smirk in response.

"That's right! We need to fix that, don't we Jimmy?" John reached over and ruffled Jim's hair, the effect a bit different now that he stood taller than both of the older men. Jim instinctively brought a hand up to parry, but John laughingly spun his arm out of the way and ruffled it again.

"John, I'm twenty, not two!" Jim groused as they piled into the car, with John cackling and Chris at the wheel, and sped off towards home.

* * *

Carol Marcus. Chris was pretty sure that he was going to be sick of that name by the end of this term. He was thrilled for his son, glad that Jim had been able to find his dream girl relatively easy; but Jim wasn't talking about much else during their calls, and he was more concerned with Jim's schooling than his possible girlfriend. Not that he wasn't happy about that possibility, as he knew that Jim had never been in a relationship, and that kiss he had accidentally walked in on when Jim was seventeen didn't count. That girl had been friendly enough, but even Chris had noticed that she was too deliberate about looking at Jim from the neck up and not touching his back. But Carol was different, according to Jim's happy babbling; she didn't care about his appearance, she cared about his brains. Jim had even brought her over to the house to _study,_ and for any average young man that would have been a really bad euphemism for sex, but Chris knew that Jim was still insisting on keeping his wings hidden, which precluded any serious intimacy on his behalf, anyway. Chris decided that there were things he didn't need to know, so he didn't pry.

Chris was finally able to get enough time to make it back down to the desert to spend some time with Jim right after his finals. As he disembarked at the Mojave shuttle station, he fully expected to be greeted yet again by Jim and that old bike, but instead a sleek newer model hovercar was there, with Jim leaning against the side with a cocky expression. Chris knew the look on his face must have been rather comical, as Jim lifted himself away from the car with a chuckle.

"Where in the world did you steal this from?" Chris said, approaching his laughing son. Jim crooked his head sharply to the right.

"From her." Chris's view suddenly had a lovely young woman in it, as she walked up to his son and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Carol, this is my dad, Captain Christopher Pike." Carol reached out and Chris shook the proffered hand firmly. "Dad, Carol Marcus." So this was the famous Carol. Chris gave her a friendly smile and glanced pointedly towards the car.

"I apologize in advance if my son guilted you into picking up his old man," Chris said as Jim muttered 'hey' in the background. Carol shook her head with a smile, and Jim picked up his bag and put it in the trunk.

"No, it was my pleasure; can't leave a famous Starfleet Captain stranded at the station, could we?" Carol said as she motioned to the car, and she opened up the rear door. "Don't leave your father sitting all alone, Jim." She winked at Chris, and with an eye roll, Jim scooted onto the back seat, Chris following behind. Carol got in and started the car, and they were swiftly on the road out of town. Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Famous?" he said, and Jim shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, you definitely are around here. When the Enterprise posting was officially announced, all the local news feeds were running with it like crazy. You are the local hero, as far as anyone in the desert seems to think," Jim said, and Carol made a sound in agreement. "When Carol realized what Pike I was related to, she acted like I had just told her I was related to Zephram Cochrane." Jim smirked, and Carol squawked.

"I did not, you liar! Captain, he's full of it." Carol never took her eyes from the road while speaking; Chris liked her already. Tilting his head towards his son, Chris gave him a considering look.

"She has a point there, son," Chris said, and Jim scowled.

"I am- you guys- bah. Already picking on me." Jim folded his arms and settled into a nice sulk, while Chris leaned forward a bit in his seat.

"So, Miss Marcus; anything I should know about you? I believe you two met at school?" Chris said, and Carol nodded.

"Carol, sir. Miss Marcus makes me feel like when my parents are mad at me." Carol chuckled, and Chris, amused, leaned back in his seat.

"Then I insist you call me Chris, Carol. I'm on vacation."

"All right."

They made good time back to the house, and Chris took the opportunity to find out more about his son's girlfriend. From his questions, Chris discovered that Carol was a twenty-one year old fourth year student working on her Molecular Biology degree, and had already been accepted to continue on into graduate school. It was clear that she cared for Jim, Chris noticed that her voice softened a bit when she was referring to something good he had done, and Jim was hanging on her every word like she was reciting the secrets of the universe. Chris was simply happy that his son was so happy. If this relationship went sour, though, he had a feeling that the resulting crash would be disastrous. Jim was so infatuated with Carol that Chris worried that his sense of perspective was hopelessly skewed. But Jim was an adult. He had to let him sink or swim sometime.

Chris and Jim made the three of them a dinner of spaghetti and meatballs, which Carol praised endlessly as they ate. Chris watched his son mentally preen and glow under her approval, and couldn't help feeling a little nostalgic about the whole affair as he watched the two of them interact. He learned all about Carol's current projects and experiments, which Jim told him as much about as Carol. Chris didn't miss how the young woman's eyes lit up at the talk of her work as much as it did at talk of his son, but decided not to dwell on it. Jim deserved the chance to enjoy his first real chance at love.

Jim cornered him after dinner in the kitchen as they were cleaning up, and asked if he would be willing to play guitar while he sang. Chris was stunned.

"Are you sure? You usually never want anyone to hear you sing." Jim actually blushed, a faint dusting of his tan skin that made him look incredibly young; Chris could no longer restrain an amused grin.

"Hey, it's not funny!" Jim growled, but his embarrassment was too easy for Chris to ignore. Chris had himself a good solid laugh against the kitchen counter for a good minute while Jim put the dishes away snappishly. After he had calmed himself down to a quiet chuckle, Jim glowered and spoke again. "Well? Will you?" The instant Chris nodded, Jim was gone from the kitchen, the sounds of him running up the stairs resonating throughout the house.

"Where is he going?" Chris turned around to see Carol popping her head into the kitchen with a look of confusion on her face. He smiled and motioned her back to the living room.

"He wants to show you something. I would say feel honored, because he never does this in front of anyone but John or myself, but I'll leave that determination up to you." Chris winked as he sat down in one of the chairs, and indicated that she do the same. Jim came down the stairs clutching Chris's guitar, which was still in its case, causing Carol's eyes to widen in interest.

"You play, Jim? You never said anything." Jim entered the living room, shaking his head.

"Not me," Jim said as he handed off the guitar to his dad, who popped open the case and took out the acoustic instrument. Carol looked confused all over again by the exchange, and Chris smiled as he set the case on the rug on the floor.

"He's going to sing for you, if I am understanding correctly. I'm just the backup band." Chris quirked his index finger, and Jim leaned in.

"Yeah?" Jim said, and Chris smirked.

"_Annie's Song_?" Chris whispered. Jim's face promptly turned a fascinating shade of burgundy, and he began to sputter.

"You- you- _Dad_," Jim moaned, and Chris gave a naughty smile.

"I've gotta get my kicks somewhere, kid. If I didn't, I'd be completely grey by now." Chris raised his eyebrows, and Jim straightened, running his hands through his hair and looking vaguely insulted. Carol appeared to be enjoying the exchange, based on the amused smile on her own face. "Well Jim, what are we doing?" Jim looked over at Carol, and smiled.

"I hope you like this," Jim said, and tilted his face towards Chris. "How about _And So It Goes_?" Chris nodded and plucked at the strings as he recalled the tune.

"I'm guessing your tastes run to more serene tunes, Carol?" Chris said as he looked down at his guitar, and he heard Carol make a noncommittal noise.

"I like a little bit of everything, but I tend to like calmer songs, yes." Chris nodded without looking up, strumming a few more notes.

"You'll like this then." Chris lifted his head and looked at Jim. "I'm ready." Jim nodded, and they began, Jim's lovely voice was a tick rougher than it may have once been, but he was still suited exquisitely to the material. He was too busy playing to focus on what he was playing to pay much attention to Carol, but what he did catch was promising. As they finished, Chris looked up to see Carol trying out her best fish impression, and Jim- Jim's face was blank. After what must have felt like a lifetime to his son, Carol began to bounce in her seat, applauding loudly.

"That was amazing! Jim, how come you never told me you could sing? Oh _wow_." Carol's voice came out almost as a squeak, and Jim immediately affected the mellow "it was no big deal" attitude, a hand scratching at the fine hairs at the back of his head. Chris calmly sat back in his seat and watched the young couple silently with a fond smile.

* * *

Chris found himself completely swamped with work, now that he was teaching classes at the academy and doing recruiting trips. His talks with Jim dwindled to once every week or so, and those calls were often less than twenty minutes, with the usual pleasantries and updates on school and work taking most of the time. Carol was still very much in the forefront of the conversations, although Chris noticed that Jim's effervescent bubbling over her had tempered into fond commentary; which he thought might actually be a good sign. However, as the months of Jim's third school term pressed on, Chris realized that something wasn't right; Jim's smiles became more and more strained, and his mentions of Carol seemed almost...sad. Chris tried everything he could think of to lure solid answers out of him, but Jim had gotten exceptionally good at diverting and conveniently forgetting to answer questions. The most he got his son to admit to was that school was tiring him out more than usual, but that told Chris nothing.

About a week after Jim's midterms, John informed Chris during their thrice-weekly lunch that he had to do a trip down to Twenty-Nine Palms, and told him that he would stop by the house before he returned and see how Jim was doing. Chris knew damned good and well that Jim was willing to tell "Uncle John" things he would never confess to his old man; so he thanked John and sent him off to spy. What Chris didn't expect is John to drop by at midnight immediately after his trip, charging straight into the house and asking for a beer. The instant Chris got a good look at John's face, he knew something was wrong. Motioning John into the living room, he fetched a few beers and sat down next to the older man, who plucked the offered drink out of Chris's hands and took a long draft, saying nothing. Chris wasn't so patient.

"Alright, something is going on," Chris said, watching John's Adam's apple bob as he downed his beer. John gave him a look out of the corner of his eye that made him groan and put a hand against his forehead. "That bad?" John swallowed the last of the beer and put the bottle down with a thud.

"It's not great, Chris." Chris sucked in a breath. John always started with that damn nickname. This was serious. John propped his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands, looking straight ahead. "From what I could glean from the two of them, which was ninety percent her, pretty Carol is getting increasing amounts of crap for associating with Jim; she's got quite the fan base, from what I understood. Jim is, of course, getting it in reverse, being told to back off and how she is too good for the likes of him-" John angled his head towards Chris. "-insert your favorite cliche phrases here. It started out mild, easy to ignore; but Carol admitted that it has been steadily worsening as the trimester has gone on." Chris closed his eyes against John's words, feeling the prickles of anger rise in his chest. "Not that it wasn't obvious. I'm assuming he didn't tell you." John lifted his head enough to rest his cheek on his folded hands, and Chris furrowed his brow in thought.

"Tell me what? I've been barely able to get more than a straight sentence or two out of him for months if it's about anything serious." Chris sighed, and John leaned back and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Someone vandalized your motorcycle while it was parked at the campus. Jim's been trying to get it back to the way it was for almost a month now." Chris jerked his head towards John's, eyes wide, and received a sad smile for his effort.

"Please tell me you aren't saying what I think you are saying," Chris said, and John let his head fall back to look at the ceiling; Chris suddenly felt very weary of the whole discussion.

"I'd love to say that it's not what it sounds like, but it's completely what it sounds like. I managed to pull him aside for a bit, ask if he had considered just stopping the disguise, but he is completely unwilling to do so." John sighed. "He's accustomed to the reactions he gets now; I think...I think he's afraid of what will happen when his little secret eventually comes to light." Chris nodded absently, and John continued. "I asked if he had thought about telling Carol, but even I couldn't get an answer out of him for that one." Chris sagged, and John squeezed Chris's shoulder without raising his head. "They aren't going to last much longer as a couple if something drastic doesn't happen, and soon." Chris let his own head fall back against the sofa, and the two sat in silence for a long while, listening to the clicks of the old-fashioned grandfather clock in the background.

"Carol's a nice girl," Chris blurted out, and John sighed.

"Yeah, she is."

"Jim is going to be a wreck, although he'll deny it until Nogura gets a sense of humor."

"Jimmy is going to be a fucking mess. He's still shooting Carol moon-eyes, and they've been going out, what, five months now?"

"You do realize we sound like two old women who have nothing better to do then wear red hats and gossip about their neighbor's kids," Chris said dryly, and John barked out a laugh that trailed into another sigh.

"I think it's going to come down to Jim or her unobstructed education, at least in her mind, and it's crystal clear which one she'll choose. The look in her eyes when she was telling me about her newest experiment was even more sappy than Jim's looks at her," John said, and Chris couldn't argue against that. Heaving yet another sigh, Chris swung himself off the sofa and looked down at John, wincing at his blood-shot eyes and the growing bags under them.

"Why don't you stay here tonight, John? The extra bedroom is all set up." John raised bleary eyes to Chris, who took his hands and pulled him into a standing position. "Come on, old man, I would be a horrible friend to let you wander back to your place half-awake like that, especially after you've done me a favor."

"Trying to get me into bed, Chrissy?" John smirked, and Chris groaned.

"Don't _you_ start that. I said the spare bedroom, old man," Chris snarked, right as John pulled him in and gave him a big noisy kiss on the side of his head. "Definitely your bedtime," Chris deadpanned, as he pushed John through the door of the extra bedroom and closed the door. "Good night, John."

"G'night, Chrissy." John's reply was muffled by the door, but Chris still heard it as he entered his own bedroom. With a tired smile, he fell into his own bed, and hoped that his son's situation would resolve itself quickly.

* * *

The resolution came swifter and harsher than either Chris or John had expected. Only about two weeks following the end of the school year, Chris returned from a normal day at work to find Jim sitting on the sofa in the front room, hunched over and with a look on his face that made Chris drop what he was carrying and sit down next to him. "When did you get here, Jim?" Jim didn't answer, and Chris sighed and fell back against the cushions. "Jim, talk to me. Is this about Miss Marcus?" That got a reaction. Jim stiffened, clenching his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white; Chris could see the veins pop out even more than usual. Chris resisted the urge to massage his temples to relieve the headache that was rumbling into existence, choosing instead to reach out and cover one of Jim's fists with his hand. "Son, please." Jim deflated, his chin falling to his chest.

"As you've probably guessed, I've been cut loose," Jim muttered, his voice laced with the bitterness Chris and John had both expected, and Chris squeezed Jim's fist in a comforting motion. "She told me she needed more time to devote to her research, now that she's continuing on to grad school." Jim let his fists relax, and Chris pulled his hand back. "That's a little bit of the reason, but not the primary one." Jim turned his head to face Chris as he spoke, and Chris tried to put on a reassuring smile.

"If that's not the main reason, what do you think it was?" Chris said, and Jim gave a dark, toothy smile devoid of warmth.

"I have excellent hearing, Dad. Especially if it's from a decent distance away." Jim fell back to join his father against the sofa cushions. "I didn't tell you that Carol took me to meet her parents." Chris sucked in a breath, and Jim gave that bitter smile again.

"I'm guessing it didn't go well," Chris murmured, and Jim shrugged.

"I wasn't what they were expecting, I'll tell you that." Jim arched his torso forward and scratched at his lower back. "Carol had neglected to tell them much of anything about me. The look on her mother's face was classic; I'm pretty sure I would have gotten the same look if I had been a Klingon." Chris groaned and put a hand on his son's shoulder, causing Jim's smile to lighten a tiny bit. "Her father wasn't that bad, asked me about my studies, about you and the desert; her mom said next to nothing to me most of the evening. When they thought I was out of earshot, they informed Carol that despite me being the son of a decorated Starfleet Captain, that I wasn't intellectually her equal, therefore I was only going to be a distraction to her studies." Chris's eyes widened incredulously, and Jim shrugged again. "She argued against that one, telling them that I was first in my class and how I had been taking college classes for years; it was pretty clear by her mom's response that she didn't buy that one bit." Jim gave a painful chuckle, and Chris instinctively squeezed his shoulder. "After some back and forth, her mom finally just came out with what she had obviously wanted to say the entire time. She-" Jim's voice caught, and Chris decided to say nothing as he watched his son take a few deep breaths to try and keep his composure. Jim gave that frozen grin-grimace again that sent a chill down Chris's spine. "No daughter of her's was going to throw away her career on a malformed spoiled brat who was never going to get anywhere in life, and if Carol insisted on seeing me, she was going to stop paying her expenses." Chris felt his jaw drop.

"Was- was she that blunt about it?" Chris got out, and Jim pursed his lips and nodded.

"I may have misquoted a tiny bit, but, yeah, that was basically it. Her complete sap of a father tried for about ten seconds to calm his wife down, but it was pretty clear who made the decisions in that family." Jim swung his legs out and leapt to his feet, knocking Chris's hand off his shoulder in the process. "I knew that Carol would choose her studies over me. I knew that almost as soon as I really met her. I just-" Chris got to his feet and faced his son, who was beginning to shake. "I just wish it had lasted longer." Jim slumped forward and let his forehead fall against Chris's shoulder; he took that as license to give his son a hug.

"I am sorry, Jim, for what it's worth," Chris said, and Jim mumbled something into his shoulder in reply before pushing back.

"I feel like such a fucking kid, getting all bothered about this shit. I bet you were a lot younger than this when you had your first girlfriend or boyfriend**,**" Jim groused, and Chris sighed at his tone.

"Jim, you have extenuating circumstances, and besides, not everyone has their first relationship as a teenager. You don't need to be rushing into anything." Chris barely kept himself from rolling his eyes at Jim's disbelieving reaction.

"How old were you?" Jim challenged, and Chris snorted.

"I was nineteen when I had my first real girlfriend. John was twenty, and that relationship...ended rather unfortunately, from what I've inferred." Jim actually gave a real chuckle this time, and Chris quirked his head.

"What's the laugh for?" Chris said, and Jim gave a wan smile.

"John seems to have crappy luck with his girlfriends," Jim said as he walked towards the kitchen. Chris paused and thought about it for a moment, before nodding.

"You have a point there, son." Jim popped out of the kitchen holding a pint of chocolate-chocolate ice cream, and Chris raised an eyebrow. "If you can't get off the ground next time, don't blame me."

"I won't," Jim said around his spoon, and Chris rolled his eyes.

"Awwwonrnt?" Chris mimicked, and Jim shot him a dirty look as he took another bite.

"Hmph." Chris gave his son a smile as he walked back to his briefcase and picked it up.

"I have some work I need to finish, Jim. We can talk more in a few hours," Chris said, and Jim nodded mid-swallow, the spoon hanging out of his mouth. Chris headed to the stairs, and sighed silently as he caught Jim drooping into a chair with his ice cream. Damn Marcus's. It was unfortunate that Carol was related to them.

* * *

Jim, much to Chris's relief, didn't suddenly start eating him out of house and home (any more than usual, anyway) to comfort himself, instead choosing to sign up for his fall classes and loafing around the house in San Francisco with him for a little over a week before heading back south to start the summer term. Chris had brought up the idea of taking the summer off, but Jim would have none of it. John actually sided with Jim, saying that he understood the need to keep busy, and Chris decided to drop the subject. Jim went back to school, and Chris was sent out for an eight-week training cruise commanding the USS Danais. It would be another month until he spoke with his son again, and the short call he did have was rushed and entirely uninformative. By the time he returned, the summer term was over, and by Chris's reckoning, the fall term was within days of starting. He decided to head for Mojave like usual, but without letting Jim know ahead of time, grabbing a taxi from the shuttle station.

Chris didn't know what he had expected when he entered his mountain home, but it wasn't this. Just from the front entryway, Chris could see an explosion of clothes, books, PADDs, dirty dishes and other detritus littering every surface of the front room, and it appeared to continue on into the adjoining rooms. His nose crinkled when he stepped around the rotting fruit shoved under the coffee table, and walked up the stairs to dump his luggage. His house had been turned into a dorm. Maybe he should have given Jim notice, so he wouldn't have to had to see this, but it was too late for reconsideration now. Where was Jim, anyway?

"Jim? Are you in the house?" Chris was happy to note that the upstairs had not suffered the same indignity, excepting Jim's room, which looked like the aftermath of an engineering experiment gone horribly wrong. As he entered his bedroom, which appeared untouched, he yelled one more time to no effect. Jim was probably out flying, or studying; but he would be back quickly enough when he noticed that the proximity sensors had been triggered. After dropping his bag onto the slightly dusty bed, he decided that he would go ahead and start cleaning the downstairs. Chris promptly almost tripped over a bottle as he reentered the front room, and upon grabbing it realized that it was an empty vodka bottle, the last few drops resting at the bottom. He gave a deep sigh as he worked his way around the room, picking up an unfortunate collection of more empty bottles, rotting food, and very dirty dishes and dumping them in their corresponding receptacles. Just as he was about to start on the clothes, a light-feathered whirlwind blew in the front door, nearly knocking him over.

"Hi, son," Chris said wryly. Hurricane Jim looked like he had seen a ghost; his blue eyes were as big as the wheels of his bike, and his jaw was trying to beat a strategic retreat south. Chris calmly reached out and closed Jim's mouth with a single finger under the chin, hearing the young man's teeth clack together with the motion. "I must confess I wasn't expecting to relive some of my early Academy days when I came home, but well, I figure that I've gotta have that second childhood sometime." The mention of the mess knocked the dazed expression of Jim's face, and Chris watched as his son's face went through a spasm of expressions, before finally resting on irritation.

"You didn't tell me you were coming home today!" Jim exclaimed, immediately darting around Chris to pick up his clothes. Chris turned to watch him jump around the room, a bemused smile on his face.

"I didn't know I needed to RSVP to enter my own home," Chris said bluntly, and watched Jim nearly trip over the coffee table. "I might be an old-fashioned guy, but might I ask why the house looks like a very large dorm room?" Jim bolted out of the room with his arms full of clothing, and Chris sat down to wait. After listening to the noises from his son running around the house for several minutes, Jim came back into the room looking a bit sheepish, flopping into the seat across from his dad. Chris leveled a look. "Well?" Jim gave him a slightly shaky smirk.

"I got really busy with classes, and didn't have time to clean," Jim said as Chris sighed.

"You had time to drink, though," Chris said dully, and Jim frowned.

"It helped me sleep." Chris raised an eyebrow and glanced towards the base of the stairs.

"Is that why I tripped on an empty vodka bottle near the stairs, Jim?" Chris drawled, and he watched his son's face flush with embarrassment. "Just- don't get too dependent on it, Jim. There are much healthier ways of relaxing in the world." Jim was looking at the wall behind his head, and Chris rolled his eyes. "I know, I'm just the old man who you talk to occasionally over a console, but try to humor me sometimes." Jim chuckled at that, and Chris settled back in his seat. "How was school this summer?" Jim gave him a tired smile.

"Busy, but I aced all my classes," Jim said, flaring his wings as he repositioned himself. Chris nodded, giving him a proud smile.

"Like usual, yes?" Jim shrugged, and Chris leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. "Just try not to get the house that messy again, hmm? I really wasn't looking forward to explaining to the Admiralty how I broke my neck tripping on an empty bottle of booze." Jim ducked his head with a sheepish look, and Chris slapped him on the shoulder. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Not yet. I was just out getting some fresh air, I was going to eat when I got back," Jim said, and Chris nodded.

"Let's get something together, then. I didn't have much for breakfast." Chris rose and pulled his son to his feet, and the two of them headed into the kitchen. Jim opened a wing and wrapped it around Chris's shoulder, pulling him against Jim's side.

"Sorry about this, Dad." Jim looked genuinely contrite, and Chris cuffed him on the side of the head.

"Just try to not repeat it, alright?"

"Yes sir."

* * *

Chris noticed that the funds for Jim's schooling hadn't been deducted for the second term, and placed a call to his son the first chance he got. The Jim that appeared on the screen looked like a pale shadow of his usual self, and Chris felt a stirring of what could only be called worry in his gut. After going through the usual opening pleasantries, Chris got down to business.

"Jim, tuition never got taken out for Winter," Chris said, and Jim did a slight shrug in response.

"I didn't register for classes." Chris fell back in his chair as he gave Jim an incredulous look.

"You- what? This is the first time I've heard about this, Jim," He said, examining the younger man's face on his screen. Jim scrubbed a hand through his darkening hair and shrugged again.

"I needed a break, Dad," Jim stated with hardly any inflection, and Chris only barely managed to bite back a surge of anger. Sitting up and squaring his shoulders, he looked Jim straight in the eye and let his displeasure show in his gaze. Jim's own eyes dropped for a moment, before meeting his again in an odd expression of defiance that Chris did not expect.

"You are an adult, Jim, and it's your decision, but I find myself disappointed that I didn't even rate a simple call to let me know ahead of time." Whatever Jim had been expecting him to say, it obviously hadn't been that; Jim's shoulders stiffened while his expression sagged, and Chris could see pure exhaustion lining his son's features. "Jim, what's really wrong? How many classes had you been taking?" Jim shook his head.

"I'm sorry about forgetting, I just was really caught up in things, and I didn't-" Jim paused, and Chris pursed his lips. "I took nine courses last semester**,**" Jim said with a tired sigh. Chris felt his mouth drop open.

"Jim, what in the world were you thinking? No wonder I was having such a hard time reaching you!" Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the building headache behind it. "Jim- Jim, is this about Carol?" Jim's face went perfectly blank, and Chris bit back a groan. Before he could formulate his next statement, Jim's blank expression relaxed into a vague look of guilt.

"It...might have been, at first," Jim muttered. "I took eight classes during the summer to get ahead and forget, and I was able to keep up with that, so I thought I would try for nine. But-"

"But?" Chris inquired, and Jim reached behind and scratched at the top ridge of his right wing.

"The regular school year is a lot longer than the summer term. It was all I could do to keep everything straight." Jim settled back in his chair. "I've been working part-time at a hovercar repair and tuning shop, doing the computer work and sometimes the mechanical stuff." The guilty look returned, and Chris opened his mouth to speak, but was preempted again. "You've been taking care of me for so long, and I don't want to keep taking advantage of you. I'm thinking of travelling for a little while." Chris could barely keep up with Jim's constant changing of topics, but he managed to formulate a response.

"Let me see if I have this straight. You took eight classes during the summer, thought you could pull off nine _and_ a part-time job during the full length fall semester..." Jim scowled, but Chris pressed on. "You burned yourself out, and so you decided to...drop out of school?" Chris saw the dark cloud pass over Jim's face, and quickly amended his statement. "I mean take some time off. Jim, why haven't you been saying anything? How am I supposed to help you if you keep everything to yourself?" Chris could hear the hurt in his own voice, and winced internally. Jim rubbed at his face with both hands, hiding his features from view. "Jim, do you want me to come down? I can take some personal time-"

"No!" Jim snapped, and immediately looked chagrined. "I mean, no, I don't want to impose. There's no need to burden you with dumb shit like this, I'll deal." Chris slumped in his chair.

"Jim, it's my job to help you out, I _want_ to help you; don't give me this crap about not wanting to impose." Chris sighed and met Jim's gaze. "I thought we had talked about this, son." Jim closed his eyes and fell back in his seat, and Chris was torn between wanting to throttle him and wanting to give him a hug. Only Jim.

"I'm sorry. I just- I want a change of scenery for a little while. I love the desert, but I want to see the rest of North America, at least." Jim opened his eyes, and Chris gave him a soft smile.

"I'm pretty sure road trips are a time-honored form of taking a breather during college. I took mine a little earlier than most, but I did it as well," Chris said, and Jim gave him an interested look.

"Where did you go?"

"I travelled to the Academy by way of Teotihuacan. It wasn't exactly the most direct route-" Jim laughed, and Chris's smile grew. "-but it was an amazing trip." Jim nodded.

"It gives me something to think about, at least." Jim pursed his lips in obvious thought, before popping his lips. "Oh yeah! I bought a bike for the trip. I've been fixing it up during quiet times at work." Chris smirked.

"You mean you are going to give my poor old antique a rest? However can I thank you?" Chris sing-songed, and Jim glared in response, before breaking off into chuckles. The two men regarded each other silently for a moment, until Chris spoke up again. "When are you thinking of heading out?" Jim chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"I was planning on next month," Jim said, and Chris's smile flattened out a bit.

"Not going to be back for Christmas or your birthday, are you?" Chris said, the words coming out a bit harsher than he had planned; Jim's own smile faltered.

"I don't know, Dad. I honestly don't know." Jim started preening his wings with his fingers, and Chris knew he wasn't going to get any more solid answers out of him at that point.

"I'll be down before you leave. The house will need to be closed up, and I _would_ like to see my wayward kid before he wanders off for who-knows how long." Chris leveled a stern look at Jim, who tilted his head in understanding.

Chris called up John and vented to the older man for several hours after hanging up with Jim. John calmly listened to him bitch and gripe without comment for over an hour before interjecting with a wry smile on his face.

"Chrissy, Jimmy is a fantastically smart kid. However, just because he's a damn genius doesn't mean he knows what he wants to do with his life. Hell, I think they've done studies to prove that sometimes the smarter you are, the less likely you are going to setting into a career right away." John paused, and his expression became serious. "Chris, Jimmy is only twenty. He's had more shit to deal with than ninety-nine percent of the kids on this planet. I think him taking some time to get prospective on his life will be a good thing. Not forever, mind you, but I wouldn't be shocked if we don't see much of him for the next six months or so." When Chris squawked out his objection to the six-month estimate, John snorted and told him he would be over tomorrow after work with martini fixings. "The good Doctor Boyce informed me recently that a good martini does wonders for your stress level. I think you need it."

Chris managed a three day holiday to the desert about three weeks later, where he and Jim cleaned up the house and had a few jam sessions, and Chris pretended he didn't see that Jim already had the saddlebags of his bike packed. The morning of the third day, Jim brought up an idea at the breakfast table which caused Chris to nearly choke to death on his eggs in shock. So when Chris found himself on the edge of one of the medium sized cliffs near his house about a half hour before sunset, his son doing a mind-boggling series of stretches behind him, Chris felt like turning tail and running back to the house.

"Jim, I really don't think this is a good idea. I know you've mentioned it a few times, but the physics of it worry me." Chris turned around to see Jim, his wings spread to their fullest extent, and marveled at the effect of the pinks and oranges of the sunset through the gold and white feathers. Jim was easily one of the beautiful people Chris had ever known; George had been handsome, his mother was pretty, but Jim was in a wholly different playing field. Chris just hoped that more people could see that, even when Jim's wings were concealed.

"Yeah Dad, I know I'm hot, and we'll be fine. I just need a higher plateau to start from if I'm carrying something." Jim strode to the edge of the cliff and peeked over, nodding absently. Chris had never felt himself afraid of heights, but he felt a healthy respect of them was perfectly normal. It was an instinct that Jim lacked, a fact that had almost given Chris a heart attack not three months after he had taken custody of him. Jim spun back around and walked up to him, giving him a visual once-over. "Now I get to decide how to go about this." Chris gave him a comically horrified expression, and scooted away from him and the cliff. Jim burst out laughing, his grin open and boyish, and those blue, blue eyes gleaming with mischief that even Chris couldn't disregard.

"Speak, you pain in the ass." Chris cracked a smile, despite of the growing fear that he was going to die horribly in just a few moments, and Jim waved a finger in irritation.

"I meant, that I could carry you either in front or on my back. If I carry you on my back, my wings will be more restricted but you'll probably feel more secure; if I carry you in front, I'll probably be able to keep us up a little longer, but you may be a little more uncomfortable." Jim tapped his foot as he thought, but Chris's answer was easy.

"If we are really going to do this, pick whichever one you are more comfortable with. I'd prefer to be alive at the end of this, as I would like to be able to see inside of the Enterprise before I bite it," Chris said, not completely able to disguise the shaking of his voice. Jim clasped his shoulder and gave him a concerned look.

"If you really don't want to do this, we can skip." Jim smiled, but his eyes told a much different story, and Chris felt like he was kicking a puppy. Damnit. He shook his head and managed another smile.

"No, you hauled me up here, we'll go through with it." Jim gave him that wide grin again, then took him by the shoulders and led him close to the edge. He kept his eyes on Jim.

"We get to be all up close and personal for awhile, so probably a good thing that we have no spectators." Jim chuckled, and made a hugging motion with his arms. "Basically, we are going to have a bear hug, and then you'll turn around once I get to the right altitude. You hold on under the wings, I'll hold on under your arms. For obvious life-ensuring reasons, don't let go." Jim tilted his head. "If you feel unstable, you can use your legs to grab on too." A minute of pulling and prodding later, and the two were definitely in what would be referred to by onlookers as a compromising position. Of course, Jim didn't help. After a whispered "Hey good-lookin', come here often?" Chris may have accidentally let loose of Jim's waist to smack the younger man on the back of the head, and Jim apologized with a smirk. Chris often forgot that Jim was taller than him, and when he felt himself lifted off the ground, his feet resting on top of his son's, he let out a small noise. "You alright, Dad?" Chris nodded, and they were at the edge of the cliff before he could process it. "I would suggest closing your eyes until I start gaining altitude consistently. I doubt this will be like the orbital jumps you did at the Academy." Chris murmured his agreement and shut his eyes as he felt their feet leave the ground. Swallowing against the sudden nausea, he focused on breathing as he felt the air rush by them. To Chris, it felt like they were falling far beyond what he would have expected for lift-off, but right as he thought about saying something, the air around them changed direction as Jim began to gain altitude. He could feel Jim's unique muscular system working overtime under his fingers as Jim's wings beat a wide swath around them, and after a few more seconds, Chris slowly allowed his eyes to open. The sides of the mountain were rushing by; birds scrambling to get out of the way as they flew past, and Chris had to close his eyes against a spike of vertigo. The next few minutes were disorienting to him, as he alternated between glancing at the passing cliffs and clenching his eyes shut. The sound of the wind changed, and Chris felt Jim's arms tighten further. "Open your eyes, Dad. We're almost there." Chris opened his eyes to look out on open sky, and he instinctively looked down; the peaks of the Bristols were below their feet, and Chris decided he liked looking straight out instead. After a few more minutes of ascending, Jim leveled out, and Chris turned his head towards Jim's. "Time to turn you around! Go ahead and let go, I've got you." Chris didn't stop to think, and he found himself leaning against his son's chest, both of them looking in the same direction.

"Holy shit," Chris whispered, and he could feel the answering grin. Jim squeezed his waist lightly, and pointed towards the multicolored horizon with his chin.

"I told myself years ago that I was going to bring you up here so you could see the Mojave sunset how I've been able to see it," Jim said quietly, and Chris felt a tightness in his throat that had nothing to do with vertigo.

"Thank you, Jim. It's- I don't think I can describe it." Chris blinked away the annoying moisture that had suddenly sprung up, obviously due to the wind; and father and son watched the sunset in silence. He thought he heard Jim say 'It's the least I can do," but he wasn't sure; he lightly clasped the top of one of his son's hands, the same hands keeping him from plummeting to the ground below, and admired the view he had always loved from what was easily the most magnificent vantage point he had ever seen it from.

When Jim was in his harness and walking him to the taxi waiting for him a short walk down the mountain a few hours later, Chris finally identified what the clawing sadness that had been resting in the back of his stomach the entire trip was. And after Jim gave him a hug and a goodbye as he climbed into the back of the vehicle, Chris turned in his seat to see Jim's receding figure, and gave a short wave that was answered in kind. Chris wondered if all parents felt like this when their children moved out, even if it wasn't going to be forever.

* * *

Jim called him three weeks later from Chihuahua, Mexico, and told him about Ciudad Juarez with excited hand motions and commentary on the local scenery; all while wishing both he and John a Merry Christmas, telling them that he would be sending their gifts a bit late, and to not worry about anything for him. Chris barely got in a Happy Birthday to the soon-to-be twenty-one year old. The next call came about three weeks after that, shortly after he received a box with all sorts of knick-knacks and souvenirs that Chris and John looked at with bemusement, with Jim agreeing with him on the amazing nature of Teotihuacan, and babbling about the rainforest in Chiapas. A month passed until the next (he had hopped a shuttle to see Machu Picchu) and the month after that had him calling from Texas. Jim let slip on the Texas call that his mother was currently dirtside, and Chris was unsurprised when Jim didn't answer his inquiry about whether he was going to visit her. The six month mark found Jim calling from New York, a short call that told Chris next to nothing about how his son was doing; when Chris asked if Jim was planning to come home any time soon, his son, his hair now a dark shade of burnished gold, completely refused to answer.

Almost two months passed without any communication from his son, and he became increasingly worried when some routine queries turned up nothing for Jim's whereabouts. When he communicated this worry to John, the older man had sat in complete silence for a moment before getting to his feet and sitting down at Chris's computer terminal, and punched in a short command. Chris got to his feet when he saw a dark look pass over his friend's face, but John spoke before he could approach.

"He was in Indiana as of two weeks ago." John's answer was terse, and Chris gave John a confused look.

"How did you find that? I haven't had any luck." Chris walked up to the console, but John stood and blocked his view. "John?"

"James Pike was last heard from in Texas, shortly after reentering the US from Mexico. However, James Tiberius Kirk spent the night of July fifteenth in a holding cell along with five others following a bar fight in Fort Wayne, Indiana. He was given a warning in Akron, Ohio two weeks before that for the same reason, and got fined in Buffalo, New York a week before that for _again_ the same reason." John's expression was dark, and Chris struggled to process the information. What the hell was Jim doing? Why was he- Chris lightly nudged at John, and the older man stepped back to let Chris sit at the console. A short call up of the booking photo taken in Indiana dismissed away any doubts of it being _his_ Jim, and the picture of an all too familiar young man glaring out from the screen, bruised and angry, jarred Chris to the core. Only nine months ago, Jim had been shooting him those smiles that made him look twelve as they practiced their music and as he was flying him up to watch the sunset; the man in the photo barely resembled him. The sky blue eyes were devoid of warmth, and had the fog of liquor obscuring their highlights. Chris didn't even realize that he had made any noise until he felt John's warm hands squeezing his shoulders.

"What the hell is going on, John?" Chris spit out as he scanned the short file. The Indiana arrest had been his fourth since he started using his birth name, but only the Buffalo arrest had actually filed charges. Only. Chris stared blankly at the offending information, not willing to parse it anymore. "He seemed so happy to be out and travelling a few months ago." John leaned over and hit the off button on the console, guided him to his feet, and moved both of them to the sofa. When the anger hit him, it shocked him with its force. "What the fuck is he doing!" Chris snarled, and John sighed at his side. "...and why is he-"  
"Using the Kirk name again? I have my theories, but I will leave him to explain his true reasoning to you." Chris looked at John, who shook his head and said nothing more. Chris could only think of one reason that didn't completely make his stomach do flips, and his frown deepened.

"This isn't just a road trip anymore," Chris muttered to himself, and John made a hmming noise.

"I wonder if it ever was," John said quietly, and looking back, Chris felt himself in agreement. For some reason, the thought that came to mind was whether Jim was able to get enough flying time in with all this moving he seemed to be doing.

* * *

"Hi Dad." Jim's face was clear, except for a small healing scratch above his right eyebrow, Chris is just relieved to see him in one piece.

"Long time no talk, son," Chris said, hearing the hurt trickle into his own voice. Jim frowned lightly, but did not look away.

"I know it's been awhile, and I'm sorry; things just got busy and I lost track of time." Chris raised an eyebrow, and Jim gave him a petulant look. "What?"

"Too busy to speak with your old man, Jim? Forty-six and I've already been put out to pasture." Chris affected an over the top sigh, his shoulders drooping as he exhaled, and the younger man snorted.

"Dad, you'll be over a hundred and still kicking ass, don't even start that old man crap." Jim gave him a smirk, and the pull of skin caused Chris to notice a line to the left of his lips that hadn't been there before.

"Where did you get the scar, Jim?" Chris said, tapping at the according spot on his own face, and Jim waved a hand in dismissal.

"I don't remember, maybe in Mexico? Doesn't matter," Jim drawled out, and Chris bit back a real sigh. The two looked at each other in silence, the moment stretching to an awkward point that Chris didn't like.

"I have a question for you, Jim." Chris sat up and fixed a thoughtful look on the younger man. "When you were younger, I put an flag on your original profile to make sure no one else was using your identity." Jim's jaw clenched, and he shot Chris a look that told the older man that lying had not been the way to go. Chris took a deep breath and started again. "Alright, no, I didn't. I did however check from time to time. After not hearing a word or getting even a basic text message from you for months, it- came to mind again." Chris would not drag John into this, this was between Jim and himself. He raised his eyes, and he knew the look on his face was bleak from the guilt that flashed across Jim's features. "It's entirely your right, son, I have no right to insist differently, but-"

"Dad." Jim cut him off, and Chris snapped his mouth closed. Jim let his head fall into his hands, and Chris watched him scrape his fingers against his scalp for a minute as the younger man collected his thoughts. Jim let his hands fall back to the table, and Chris tried to steel himself. "It's not like that. I decided after nearly getting caught up in someone else's dumb fight in Texas that I didn't want you to get connected to any stupid shit that might happen to me. I didn't want anything to cast a bad light on you, especially while you are waiting on your ship." Jim's eyes clouded with something that Chris didn't want to see, let alone understand, and he let his own head fall into his palms.

Jim was trying to protect him again. Chris had considered many different reasons for Jim reverting to the Kirk name, but he had (and he was pretty sure that that John thought the same) always come back to this one. Chris didn't know if this martyr streak developed after he had taken Jim in or before, but it was still deeply concerning. It had only been five years since Jim had almost died trying to protect him while he was off-planet. This needed to stop. "Jim, I'm a grown man. You don't need to be protecting me all the time; my career is perfectly safe, and I- Jim, what am I supposed to do if you need my help and you aren't in any shape to contact me yourself?" Chris didn't bother disguising his anger as he spoke, and Jim bristled.

"I'll be fine, you've spent enough time worrying about me these past ten years; you deserve some peace and quiet without me messing up your life any longer." The anger twisted dangerously in Chris's gut at Jim's statement, and it took him counting to ten in Orion before he could get his next words out without yelling.

"Is that what you think, Jim, that I considered you nothing but a burden? I thought we knew each other better than that. Or was I wrong?" Chris hissed the words out through clenched teeth, his mood burning blacker than he had felt in a long time. Jim quailed visibly, his head shaking violently from side to side.

"Fuck, no- but why? You could have easily just left me there, but you took me in and sacrificed everything for me! You could be married now, or shacked up with John permanently-" Normally Chris would respond to the John crack, but this wasn't the time; he watched Jim take another shaking breath. "You could have been passed over for the Enterprise because of me-"

"_James._" That brought Jim to a complete halt, his mouth hanging open. He hadn't called Jim by his full name in years. "I could have been passed over for a laundry list of reasons, Jim, you don't even rate in the top ten." It was a lie, hell, Chris had worried about it shortly after Jim came into his life; he was pretty sure that Jim knew that damned good and well, but he would be court-martialed before he would let Jim start blaming himself for things he had absolutely no control over. "Why are you suddenly going on about this now? I thought we had talked about this years ago." Jim immediately shut down, his features as bleak as a Georgia O'Keeffe desert painting, and Chris blinked away what he realized was emerging tears of frustration. "Jim, _please_."

"I've gotta go, I've got to be at work in fifteen minutes." Jim wouldn't look him in the eye, and Chris didn't trust himself to speak, but managed to get a few words out regardless.

"Just- just be careful, son," Chris murmurs, and Jim met his eyes for a second before muttering a goodbye and killing the connection. Chris laid his head on his arms and tried to remind himself that he was a Starfleet Captain.

From there on out, calls from Jim were short, uninformative, and bordering on uncomfortable. Chris persisted in asking Jim to come home, but he resisted, meanwhile, Chris and John watched his criminal record grow, with a new arrest about every other month. Nothing beyond the usual charges that accompanied bar fights, but with each one, Chris felt like he had failed at something he should he be excellent at, considering what he was in his professional life. Jim's twenty-second birthday came and went, and Chris didn't get to wish him a happy birthday until February. John was present for that call, and did his best to try and get Jim to talk; regaling him with wild stories and telling the type of utterly inappropriate jokes that Jim would have leapt at only a year or so prior. Jim was having none of it, and John looked as lost as he felt after the call was over.

"I don't know what to tell you, Chrissy." John gave him a hug and another martini, and Chris tried to think positive. He sometimes thought that he was blowing this out of proportion; even John had made cracks in the past about how overprotective he was of Jim, but no longer. The arrests and the bouncing from job to job to pay his bills (Jim's insistence on not 'bothering' him meant that he was not pulling funds from the account Chris had set up for him years ago,) especially the growing rap sheet reinforced that Chris couldn't just forget about the whole affair. But Jim became more and more difficult to keep track of over the records system, and he found himself coming to the grudging conclusion that he would simply have to wait.

* * *

Chris checked his messages on his console every day before heading to work, hoping for something, _anything_. It had been almost three months this time. After putting on his black instructor's uniform, he grabbed his packed duffel and headed outside, flagging a taxi. Jim was getting better at disappearing. Before, Chris had been able to do some relatively basic inquiries to locate him in the past, mainly through the arrests; but with Jim having not been arrested in awhile, the last notation referencing a redacted event that he was listed as being involved in, but not arrested for, he knew that Jim would be long gone before he ever got to wherever the last information pinpointed. He was just hoping that Jim was doing alright; maybe Jim just needed a few years to get his wanderlust out of his system before settling into a career. He knew he was just making excuses to cover his own feelings of impotence at the situation, however, and he sagged in his seat. He was so distracted that he didn't hear the taxi driver trying to get his attention.

"...sir?" Chris's head jolted up, startled out of his thoughts. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Chris managed to pull out the credit chip to transfer the funds for the ride.

"My apologies. I'm don't think I'm quite awake yet." With a feeble smile, Chris grabbed his bag and slid out of the car, nodding to the driver as he pulled away. He needed to snap out of it; he had a shuttle to pilot in a few hours. He was finally going to be able to see his ship for the first time in person, even if she was only about half complete; he was even taking a group of promising cadets to get some insight into the construction of the ship they may be serving on after they graduate. After finishing up some paperwork at his office, he met the cadets at the shuttle with a smile, greeting each one as they boarded. But as he took off from San Francisco, all he could think about was that day three years ago that he had found out his posting, and how Jim had seemed so happy for him.

* * *

It had completely slipped Chris's mind that the Riverside Shipyards were in Riverside, _Iowa_. As he made his descent, the fields in the distance brought that reminder into sharp distinction, and he sighed quietly as he brought the shuttle to a stop. It had been almost eleven years since he had last been here, and even longer since he had seen it in the daytime; but those were thoughts for another time. He had a job to do now. Chris unbuckled his safety harness, then sat back and let his eyes close for a moment as he listened to the sounds of the cadets disembarking.

A touch on his arm brought the world back into focus, and he realized that the shuttle was silent. Blinking, he looked up to see the Ensign assigned to the shuttle giving him a look of concern. "Sir, everyone has disembarked. Are you alright, sir?" Chris could feel his face reddening, and he shook his head.

"No- I was just thinking. Thank you, Ensign." Chris got to his feet and left the cockpit, the Ensign on his tail.

"The cadets are currently with Commander Summer, Captain. She requests to meet with you at sixteen-hundred hours at the recruiting office, if possible." Chris nodded to the Ensign as he left the shuttle, automatically bringing his hand up to shield his eyes as the sunlight came into stark reality. Before his eyes had finished adjusting to the light, he addressed the young officer.

"Of course. Thank you for your help," Chris said, and the Ensign nodded and left. Chris turned back to face the shipyard proper, and it took him a moment to realize what he was looking at. The partially completed Enterprise towered over the shipyards, its smooth grey hull punctuated with gaps and chunks with construction lights peeking through, the support pillars and scaffolding obscuring part of the view. Chris didn't even notice himself moving until he was stopped at the gates by a saluting dark-blue uniformed Petty Officer in tinted glasses, asking for his identification and clearance to be in the construction zone. Chris placed his hand on the identification scanner without looking away from the ship, _his ship; _he knew that he wouldn't be allowed on at this point, but he wanted to take a closer look. When the screen flashed his ID to the Petty Officer, the man immediately saluted again.

"Captain Pike! We were expecting you!" Chris tore his eyes away from the Enterprise to look at the man, who had a proud grin on his face. "Isn't she a beaut, Captain? You are one lucky man! ...sir." Chris smiled in return, and the Petty Officer waved him through the gates. Chris's eyes traced the curves and planes of the ship, his head turning slowly as he took it all in. "Would you like an officer to give you a tour, Captain?" Chris absently shook his head, his gaze still firmly fixed skyward; the enlisted man chuckled, a pleasant sound that only heightened Chris's sudden euphoria. "If you need anything, sir, I'm Petty Officer Orbison."

"Thank you, Mr. Orbison," Chris said, glancing in the man's direction and gave a slight nod before setting off towards the support column at the front of the saucer. A few minutes in a lift found him staring at an ocean of grey hull-plating, disregarding the technicians who were looking at him and talking amongst themselves. The Enterprise. Chris placed a hand against the first panel he could reach and closed his eyes. _His ship._ It was going to be worth every minute of the six year wait. It was almost unfortunate that the security was so tight on the shipyards, Jim would be able to take some great pictures from the sky above. Chris opened his eyes at the last thought, a bittersweet, yet determined smile taking over his face. He _would_ show Jim the Enterprise. Even if it took years, he would show her to him. He leaned in and touched his forehead to the cold metal for a moment, ignoring what sounded like a giggle from the background. As Jim might have once said, it was going to be _awesome. _Well, actually, Jim would have started with a different word, but he would have cycled around to awesome eventually. Chris nodded to the scrambling techs as he reentered the lift to head back to ground level. He had a recruiting office to report to. As he passed through the gates leading out of the construction zone, Petty Officer Orbison gave him a kind smile.

"Whaddya think of the lady, Captain?" Orbison said, and Chris looked up at the Enterprise one more time.

"I think she's perfect, Mr. Orbison."

* * *

Normally recruiting offices were staffed with mid-level officers, such as lieutenants, and occasionally lieutenant-commanders; but higher ranked officers were often cycled through short-term to provide a fresh face to the locals. Being the place where they were constructing the future flagship, Riverside was one of the few with a commander as the primary recruiting officer; but they were still advertising that the future Captain of the Enterprise was there. As such, Commander Summer had already booked him up solid for the next five days, and he only managed to snag a few minutes here and there to view his ship, or even check his messages. There was still nothing from Jim, and even John had been unable to locate him through his superior resources and contacts. Chris resolved that if he hadn't heard anything from his son in the next few weeks, he would buckle down and do a serious search. This was getting ridiculous. Chris decided not to dwell on it too much, as the more he thought about it, the more worried he became.

Day six was only half-booked, and Chris was able to finally go for his official tour of his ship. Despite his earlier belief, there was a few areas that were finished enough for him to view, and he found himself unable to ask more than very basic questions as he took it all in with wide eyes and a toothy smile, much to the amusement of the head of the construction team and Petty Officer Orbison, who had appointed himself Chris's personal guide to his ship. As the tour came to an end, he was approached by an ensign from recruiting, requesting him to speak with a walk-in that had just arrived at the office. Commander Summer met him at the door as he entered the small building, her long-fingered hands resting on her hips as she quirked a Vulcan-esque eyebrow.

"We've got an interesting one this time, Captain," Summer said, her long dark frame graceful as she walked behind the counter in the lobby. Chris had briefly entertained asking her to dinner, but had just as quickly decided that he wasn't the best company right now. She was easily one of the most intimidating people he had ever met, making her an odd choice for a recruiting officer; Chris was half-convinced that she recruited through sheer force of will. Chris followed the woman into her office, watching as she sat down on the corner of her desk. "He says he's a doctor. Considering I've seen lifers at Elba II look cleaner and saner than he does, I was a bit skeptical, but we ran his ID." Summer gave a dry chuckle. "Turns out he's a damned genius. He's got a list of specialties and degrees that should make Admiral Gaynor orgasm on the spot." The Commander delivered the last line with a perfectly straight face, and Chris barely managed to keep from laughing. Instead, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"So what's the catch?" Summer leveled a look at him that probably blasted ten years off his lifespan, and Chris tried again. "Besides the looking like a convict part, obviously." Summer walked around to her chair and fell into it without making a sound.

"That's for you to find out, Captain. Although there was a pending entry in his personal records regarding a divorce, so I think we can take a good guess." Chris nodded.

"In the interview room?" Chris said, and Summer pushed a PADD towards him.

"Good luck with that one. If you need backup, I'll be here." Chris left the Commander's office and walked up to the interview room, listening outside the door. He could hear a low voice grumbling, but it was too quiet to make out the words. Straightening his jacket, he entered the room. The aroma of liquor was not insignificant, and Chris allowed himself a small eye**-**roll before steeling his expression and facing the man. Summer had a point. Doctor...Chris glanced at the PADD he was holding. Doctor _McCoy_ looked and smelled like he had been sleeping on the floor of a bar for a week. Dark stubble covered his face, the lines around his mouth suggesting that the scowl was fast becoming permanent. What Chris could see of his eyes wasn't any better. They were narrowed and focused, but appeared to be looking at something far away. Chris hated when they came in like this, lost and depressed; it made him second-guess whether he was doing the right thing by convincing them to enlist. This one wouldn't respond to the so-called fatherly smile he often employed on the straight out of high school crowd, he was far too old for that. Chris decided to just be polite, and see where the conversation led.

"Doctor McCoy, thank you for stopping in." Chris pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table from the Doctor and sat down, placing the PADD in front of him. McCoy's quiet monologue fell silent, and he lifted his head to meet Chris's eyes. Chris was expecting a much older man from what he had seen walking in, but the face that stared back at him probably wasn't a day over thirty. Older than the average recruit, but not exceptionally so. Chris gave him a faint smile. "I'm Captain Christopher Pike, Doctor McCoy. I have been informed that you were interested in joining Starfleet?" McCoy's mouth twisted, and Chris kept his expression bland.

"That's what this place is for, right?" McCoy said dryly, and Chris noted the Southern tones in his voice.

"I would hope so, because otherwise I'm in the wrong building," Chris said, and McCoy's scowl loosened a tiny bit as he snorted.

"Fair enough," McCoy grumbled. "I've heard you've a need for doctors, and I find myself currently open to the prospect." Chris nodded, and looked down at the information on his PADD. Summer wasn't exaggerating; his credentials were stunning. He would probably only have to take the xeno-specific medical courses to fill Starfleet requirements, he should be done in three years instead of the standard five to eight for the Medical track. The fact that he looked like a escaped convict was a problem that needed to be addressed first.

"You heard correctly, Doctor. To get this out of the way, your credentials are impressive. The fact that you are certified in multiple specialties makes you even more appealing to Starfleet." Chris met the man's eyes. "I will cut straight to the chase. You look perfect on paper, but what I'm seeing in front of me concerns me." McCoy's eyebrow seemed to have acquired a twitch, and Chris continued. "I want to hear why you wish to enlist, Doctor." McCoy gave an almost imperceptible flinch, and for a split second, the man looked incredibly young. Chris stayed quiet as McCoy tried to formulate his response.

"Well, since you were straight-forward with me, I suppose I can return the favor." McCoy swallowed heavily. "As of five days ago, I am a divorcé with no medical practice, no credits, and a single rucksack of clothing to my name. My ex-wife also made damned sure I wouldn't work anywhere in the South again," McCoy said, as he aborted a hand motion towards his coat. Chris knew that move too well, even if he had never been one for it himself; he steepled his fingers together and spoke.

"...so for the last five days, you made your way from...Georgia to Iowa, medicating yourself with whatever is in the flask that you just refrained from grabbing." Chris raised an eyebrow, and McCoy deflated. Chris looked down again at the personal information on the PADD. McCoy was twenty-eight going on eighty, and had- ah. "If you join Starfleet, you are aware that you will most likely be separated from your daughter for significant periods of time, Doctor." McCoy's face darkened, but there was no surprise in his expression.

"No need to worry about that," McCoy spat angrily, and Chris felt rather sorry for the man, but was careful not to let it show on his face.

"I am assuming that your current appearance is due solely to your recent circumstances, Doctor. As I am sure you are aware, Starfleet does have rules and regulations regarding appearance and decorum that you would be expected to follow." Chris gave a pointed look at the region of McCoy's inner jacket pocket. "That would mean that the flask would need to remain in your quarters, Doctor." McCoy chuckled, a humorless sound that Chris was sure had been the man's standard tone for quite some time.

"That won't be a problem...sir." McCoy clasped his hands together on the tabletop. Despite the rest of the man looking like he hadn't bathed in a week, his hands and fingernails were clean and groomed; Chris felt immeasurably better about the situation. Placing his own hands flat on the table, he pushed himself out of his chair.

"Well then, Doctor McCoy, allow me to be the first to tentatively welcome you to Starfleet." Chris flagged McCoy's file on the PADD, then reached out and shook his hand. "The shuttle leaves tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred from the Shipyards; I will be piloting. Should you change your mind, we ask that you inform us as soon as possible." Chris noted the sudden paleness to McCoy's skin. "Is there a problem, Doctor?" McCoy looked away, and shook his head.

"No, sir," McCoy said, and Chris narrowed his eyes.

"Alright then, Doctor. I will see you tomorrow." McCoy nodded and left the room; a few seconds later, Commander Summer slipped in.

"Well?"

Chris looked towards the open door. "Provided he doesn't get so drunk that he forgets, he should be on my shuttle back to the Academy tomorrow." Summer smirked, and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"I wish I could keep you around, Captain. Pretty face like yours brings them in droves." Summer said as she walked from the interview room, and Chris coughed out a shocked laugh before following.

* * *

"Sir, you need to get down to the Shipyard Bar. There's a nasty fight going on between some cadets and a townie, and it's not going to end well for the townie at this rate." The breathless cadet coughed into a sleeve as she tried to catch her breath, and Pike ignored the emergence of that familiar headache as he hurried towards the garish neon sign of the only local entertainment. The one night he had free, and he was stuck playing babysitter to a group of cadets that should know better. As he approached, he could hear the gasps of the other people inside, followed by the obvious sound of fists meeting flesh, and he entered the bar to see one of the burlier cadets beating a man into a table. Without stopping to think, Chris let out an ear-splitting whistle, and the entire bar fell silent. Chris took one look at the garish sight of the offending cadet's knuckles dripping with blood as he dropped his victim to the table, and his expression went icy.

"Outside, all of you." Chris watched the cadet glance towards his buddy, and he glared. "_Now_." The bar cleared out quickly, and Chris turned his attention to the man draped over the table. His face was covered in blood, at least the part Chris could make out, and he seemed to be laying on something. "You alright, son?"

"You can whistle really loud, you know that?" The man said woozily, and Chris's eyes widened in shock as he tilted his head to get a better look. He would know that voice anywhere.

"_Jim_?" Jim's neck twisted around as he tried to focus, his wing-rounded back rolling with him.

"_Dad_?" Jim gasped, then clutched at his head. "Shit, that hurt." Chris glanced around noting that the bar was now empty, barring the bartender. He walked up to Jim, who was still prone on the table, and put a hand around his back, guiding him into a standing position.

"Can you walk, Jim?" Chris said, wincing at the blood covering his son's face. Jim swayed in place for a moment, then gave a shaky nod. "Go clean up. I need to speak with the bartender." Jim looked dazed, but he walked off towards the restrooms. Chris walked over to the irritated bartender, leaning his hip against the bar. "My apologies for the commotion, Mr-"

"Nelson."

"How much do I owe you?" Nelson shook his head, and gave Chris an inquisitive look.

"You really Jim's dad? Or was I just hearing things?" Chris's eyebrows flew up with the mention of Jim's name.

"How long has he been coming here?" Chris said flatly, and the bartender snorted.

"I'll take my first question as a yes." Nelson cleaned a few glasses off the table. "I'm guessing that you are the Captain Pike that everyone keeps mentioning, the one who is getting that big beast of a ship that they've been hobbling together. No one else could have cleared the bar out like that, excepting Commander Summer." Chris met the man's eyes, and the man continued. "Never heard you had a kid." Chris sighed.

"I would ask that you not repeat the information, Mr. Nelson. Personal details like that are generally kept out of public eye for security reasons." Nelson shrugged, and held up his hands palms-out defensively.

"No one will be hearing a thing from me, Captain. I was just curious." Nelson gave him a shrewd look. "You haven't seen him in awhile, have you?" Chris's jaw clenched involuntarily, and Nelson gave him a sympathetic look. "Jim's been coming in here for about two months, off and on. I initially got the impression that he was waiting for someone, but I could be wrong." The man took out a cleaning rag and began to wipe the counter. "Jim's a special one. He's as smart as they ever come, and he's got a charismatic streak a mile wide, so people have been willing to chat with him." Nelson looked up from his cleaning. "But he's also different." Chris's gaze hardened, and Nelson held up his index finger. "Hold your horses, Papa Bear. I could care less, and most of the people who come through here could care less. I mean, we get aliens of all shapes and sizes, so one kid who is shaped a bit differently generally wouldn't even rate on the weird scale. But that's the problem." Chris frowned, and Nelson continued. "Most people assume that he's part-alien, to account for it. But by his own admission, he's one-hundred percent human."

"...and that's a problem?" Chris said, his sarcastic tone not even phasing the bartender, who chuckled.

"I've learned something over the years, Captain, and I'm pretty sure you know it as well. Humans can tolerate almost anything strange or different, as long as it isn't harming them, and most importantly, if it originates from _outside _the group. Meaning species, bluntly. But when the abnormality comes purely from within, opinions can and will shift; for no other reason that whatever is different is uncomfortably close to their reality. _Especially_ because it's incredibly rare to see these days." Nelson glanced towards the bathrooms, then back at Chris. "Your son's physical differences appear to be entirely cosmetic, and in the dark lighting of the bar, people see his pretty face before they see the rest of him. I have often found myself lately seeing what new patrons will do after getting the full picture; most just look surprised before continuing on with life, but there is always a handful that judge him. The cadet he was chatting up before the fight broke out clearly was more interested in the fact that Jim could hold an intelligent conversation with her then to focus on anything else. The cadets that started the fight, however, I would probably place into the second category. Especially that brawny fellow, who started the whole damn thing for no real reason than to start a fight." Nelson straightened, and Chris could see Jim walk out of the restroom, his face only marginally cleaner with tissue jammed into his nose to stop the bleeding. The bartender leaned in towards Chris, and lowered his voice. "Go get 'em, Papa Bear. I know a lost kid when I see one, and the fact you are here is a damned good sign." Chris mouthed 'Papa Bear?' as he stepped back from the bar, and Nelson gave him a smirk before glancing over at Jim. "Either of you want anything to drink?" Jim's bruised mouth managed a small smile.

"Vodka." Jim said, as he made his to the closest table and collapsed into a chair. Chris sighed.

"If you have coffee, that would be perfect for me." Chris nodded his thanks to the bartender, who waved a hand dismissively. He made his way to the chair opposite his son and sat down, trying not to focus on the streams of dried blood running into Jim's mouth. Jim accepted his drink from Nelson without looking at him, knocking half of it back with a practiced flourish that made Chris's headache pulse a bit harder. He took a sip of his coffee as he tried to figure out where to start. "How's Winona?" Jim's eyes widened minutely, and he slouched into his chair.

"Okay, last time I saw her," Jim muttered as he took a swallow of his drink.

"Is that why you've been staying around here?" Chris said, unbuttoning the collar of his uniform. "The bartender told me that you've been here infrequently for two months now." Jim shrugged.

"Might be." Chris's lips tightened at Jim's dull tone, and he leaned back in his seat.

"Jim, did I ever tell you that I wrote my dissertation on the Kelvin?" Jim gave him an odd look, and nodded slowly.

"I seem to remember that." Chris took a drink from his coffee and watched his son's clearing expression, even has Jim held up his now-empty tumbler and asked for a refill.

"George didn't believe in the no-win scenario, Jim." Chris looked into his son's bright blue eyes, the skin around them peppered with both new and old scratches; Jim snorted and took another pull of his drink.

"...and we can see where it got him," Jim said bitterly. Chris allowed a tiny smile.

"Depends on how you define winning, son." Jim's eyebrows furrowed, and Chris pressed on. "You've spent most of the last two years wandering from place to place, and getting yourself in trouble at half of them-" Jim scowled. "-don't think I haven't noticed. Jim-" Chris folded his hands together on the table top and kept eye contact. "Jim. Do you want to continue being the genius repeat-offender everywhere you go, or do you want to do something better with your life?" Jim froze, although Chris knew if it had been anyone but him or John, the viewer would have never noticed. Jim began fiddling with what appeared to be a salt shaker shaped like a starship, the granules falling onto the table as he shook it between two fingers. Chris's smile softened. "Jim, I've never really brought it up before, but why don't you enlist in Starfleet?" That got a response, as Jim let his head fall back and barked out a laugh.

"Are you kidding me, Dad? You must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month. Do you really think they'd really want a aimless freaky fuck-up like me?" Jim's face was darkly skeptical, and Chris instinctively glared at his language before sighing.

"Jim, I know you are capable of being outstanding in whatever you choose to put effort into, and I have your academic record to prove it. You aren't a child anymore; I can't force you into anything. But I want you to consider it. You could really do something special in Starfleet, if you wanted to." Jim's face fell blank, and Chris knew that was it.

"We done?" Jim said, finishing his drink with a grimace. Chris got to his feet, pushing in the chair.

"I'm done." Chris smiled, but he couldn't keep the sadness from tainting it. Jim's eyes flashed with something; Chris couldn't name it, but it reminded him of the boy who fell apart in his arms on the floor of his kitchen so many years ago. Chris let his hand fall on his son's shoulder as he rounded the table. "The shuttle for San Francisco leaves tomorrow at eight-hundred, I'll be on it." Chris watched Jim look at the hand on his shoulder. "Please don't disappear for so long again, Jim. You really are going to make my hair go grey if you keep this up." With a final squeeze, Chris let go of his son's shoulder and walked towards the exit, Nelson acknowledging him as he passed. He turned around right before the doors, meeting Jim's eyes. "I know you can do better, son." Jim blinked back at him, and Chris left the bar. He barely slept that night.

* * *

Chris was a bit amused that the doctor from yesterday, who appeared to have found a shower if not a razor, was one of the first on-board the shuttle. It was probably his way of forcing himself to go through with it. As the cadets shuffled past him, Chris kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, obscured as it was by machinery and infrastructure; he didn't even notice Commander Summer approach.

"You aren't looking at your ship, Captain." Chris started, and looked at the Commander, who quirked an eyebrow. "I hear you got to play schoolyard monitor last night. I overheard from a few of the cadets that they were getting concerned that it was going to end badly, and by badly, they appeared to mean homicide." Summer pursed her lips. "I wonder if it was that kid again. He almost never starts the fights, but he's usually smack in the middle of them." Chris kept his face neutral as she spoke. "Jim, I think his name was." Chris allowed himself to nod in confirmation, and she gave a humorless smirk. "Ah, so it was him again. Smart as paint, that one. Considered picking him up a few times for the fleet, but something about him made me decide against it." She reached a hand up and flipped her braids behind her shoulder, her expression thoughtful. "He needs a push from the right person, and I'm not it." Summer looked skyward, and Chris found himself tracing the line of her neck. "We'll keep your ship safe for you, Captain." The Commander took a step back, and saluted. "It was a pleasure, sir." Chris gave her a honest smile and saluted back, and she smiled before spinning on her heel and walking away. The ensign from the shuttle walked up to his side, and Chris acknowledged her with a tilt of his head.

"It's almost oh-eight-hundred, Captain. Are we expecting anyone else?" Chris looked out towards the bulk of the shipyard for a moment.

"No, I think we have everyone." The ensign nodded and went back inside the shuttle, and Chris turned to follow her. An out of place sound made him pause, and he rounded to see Jim on that bike he had acquired right before he set off on what was originally supposed to be just a road trip. Jim brought the bike to a stop, and threw the keys to a passing shuttle tech as he approached; Chris stood stock-still as his son passed him on the ramp, then turned to face him. The two men looked at each other in silence, until Jim tilted his head to the heavens.

"She's beautiful." Chris followed Jim's gaze, the Enterprise's construction lights barely visible in the morning light.

"That she is**,**" Chris murmured.

"Y'know, I might want to see the inside of her some time; get a proper tour from its Captain." Chris brought his head level to see Jim smiling at him, _really smiling_ at him, those impossibly white teeth gleaming in the light, and Chris knows an apology when he sees one; but he can't seem to get the unexpected lump in his throat to go away so he can answer. Jim's smile intensified, and he tipped his head to one side. "The command track is usually four years, right?" Chris nodded automatically, and Jim smirked. "I'll do it in three." Before Chris can open his mouth, Jim is inside the shuttle, and a little trickle of what he might call joy has welded a grin on his face.

"Captain? It's five after." Chris looked at the ensign, his expression unchanged; the woman's eyes widened. "Captain?" Chris motioned towards the shuttle, and he opened the cockpit door as the ensign paused in the doorway of the primary hatch.

"Nothing to worry about, Ensign. Let's go home."

* * *

Jim was off the shuttle and lost in the crowd before Chris had even opened the cockpit door. After speaking with the ensign (The good doctor was afraid of flying, explaining the reaction from the other day. He was going to be an interesting addition to Starfleet.) and handing off the shuttle to the maintenance crew, Chris started towards the processing building.

"You seem to be in a good mood, Chrissy. Something you wanna tell me?" Chris looked to the left to see John coming up beside him, holding a PADD, and Chris leaned over and bumped his shoulder. John's eyebrows shot up, and he grinned. "Definitely something going on. Spit it out, old man." Chris glanced at Processing, and he could see John follow his gaze.

"You might say I recruited a person I never planned on trying to recruit, John." Chris chuckled. "I hope the shuttle ride sobered him up the rest of the way, otherwise he's going to get it from the Quartermaster." John stopped cold, and Chris spun to look at him. "What?"

"Are you speaking of who I think you are speaking about?" John's tone was incredulous, and Chris smirked.

"I don't know, who do you think I'm talking about?" Chris watched John's expression flash through disbelief and irritation, before settling on amazed.

"You got Jimmy back, didn't you? Damnit, why didn't you tell me, you bastard?" John reached over and smacked Chris's back, and Chris winced involuntarily before letting out a sigh. "Chris?"

"This all happened in the last twelve hours, John. Ran into him at the local bar getting the stuffing beaten out of him last night, managed to sit him down for a chat." John frowned at Chris's words.

"He alright?" Chris nodded, and John's shoulders relaxed, before he hurriedly looked at the time on his PADD. "Damn. Well...shit. I've got to run, but we will be having a nice talk later, right Chrissy?" Chris snorted.

"Like I have a choice,_ Admiral_," Chris said with an eye roll, and John huffed.

"Hmph." John patted Chris on the shoulder, and fell back with a smile. "Say hi to your wayward son for me, _Captain_." Chris rolled his eyes again and waved to John as he departed, then turned and continued to the processing center. He had just cleared the doors when Commodore Franklin, the head of the Astrophysics department, all but bowled him over; Chris grabbed the closest wall to keep from falling. Franklin gasped and immediately took his arm to help him up.

"Captain Pike! I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." The Commodore giggled nervously, and Chris waved a hand in dismissal.

"Don't worry about it, ma'am," Chris said, taking a quick peek around the room before Franklin wrapped a hand around his arm. "Ma'am?"

"Were you the one who brought him in? The whole building is talking about him!" The large woman grinned. "The son of George Kirk finally here in Starfleet, who would have thought?" Franklin paused. "Shame about the birth defect, but that doesn't matter when you have a good head on your shoulders!" Chris felt his heart stutter for a moment. Jim had enrolled using the Kirk name. Chris realized that he didn't know what he thought about that, but he knew it was entirely Jim's prerogative. "Captain?" Chris quickly smiled at the Commodore.

"Nothing, ma'am. Just thinking." Franklin swung her arms through the air with a flourish, and Chris had to back up to avoid getting hit.

"It's going to be an interesting next few years, Captain!" The animated woman laughed as she sashayed out the door, leaving Chris feeling a bit shell-shocked in her wake. Chris recovered enough to head into the Quartermaster's area, scanning the rooms as he passed by. He struck pay**-**dirt in the next to last room.

"...come back tomorrow for your shirts and uniform jackets."

"Yes sir." Chris paused outside the door as the petty officer exited the room, snapping a quick salute when he spotted Chris. Chris returned the salute, then slipped into the room. Jim was sitting on a bench against the wall, holding a package of what appeared to be the cadet uniform pants. Chris checked to see that the room was empty, then he closed the door. "Hi Dad." Jim looked up at him, his expression slightly overwhelmed; Chris sat down next to him.

"You could have simply gotten rid of the harness, you wouldn't have had to worry about waiting on your shirts," Chris said, and Jim smirked.

"Then they would have had to cut holes in the back of them instead. I still would have been waiting." Jim rolled the wrapped pants between his hands, Chris leaned over and pulled them away from him.

"Don't mess them up before you even open the package, Jim." Jim gave a nervous chuckle and tipped sideways until his head was resting on Chris's left shoulder. It was a motion that Jim had not done in years, and Chris turned to gaze at the top of his son's head before letting his own tilt to rest on top. Father and son sat there quietly for awhile, listening to the sound of each other breathing. Chris broke the still first. "So, Cadet Kirk?" Chris felt Jim tense, and he quickly wrapped his arm around Jim's shoulders. "I assume that your reasoning is the same as last time?" Jim nodded against his shoulder, and Chris sighed. "The Admiralty and the teaching staff are going to know regardless of your choice of name." Jim shrugged.

"I know. I just- I don't want you to get held back because of me. My record isn't exactly spotless, as we both know, and I'm going to get in trouble in the future." Jim sat up, and Chris missed the pressure on his shoulder, although he kept his arm in place. Before he could complain about Jim's martyr streak again, Jim pressed on. "This way, people compare me to my dead father instead of the future Captain of the flagship. I think it'll work better for both of us." Jim smirked, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. Chris squeezed Jim's shoulder.

"Whatever disagreements we may have had, Jim, I will always be proud to call you my son," Chris said, and he felt Jim shake under his arm. "I think I can share you with George; I've taken you from him enough already." Chris gave him a kind smile, and Jim gave a strangled laugh before letting his head slip back down to Chris's shoulder. Chris rubbed Jim's wings lightly through his shirt and pretended he didn't see the moisture in his son's eyes. Jim swallowed audibly, before opening his mouth to speak.

"Can I crash with you? They wanted to put me in a two-person dorm, so I told them I would live off-campus." Chris snorted incredulously and flicked Jim in the cheek.

"Freeloader."

* * *

It took less than twenty-four hours for Chris to be called to a meeting with the Admiralty. Nogura looked like he had been eating rusty nails for lunch, judging by his pinched expression, and Lehrer and Newton were both blank-faced and staring at him. Chris suddenly had an odd sense of déjà-vu, but shook it off and focused on Nogura.

"Pike, I'm going to go straight for the point here. Might you be able to explain exactly why James Tiberius Kirk, one of the academy's newest recruits, holds what can only be called a startling resemblance to your son?" Nogura was glaring holes into his face with his eyes, but Chris couldn't find it in himself to care.

"There isn't much to explain, Admiral. He believes it would be better for both of us for him to resume the use of his biological father's name during his stay with Starfleet," Chris said blandly, glancing between the three seated parties. Lehrer leaned forward, light glinting off his glasses; Nogura appeared to be considering violence, or he was constipated. It was hard to tell sometimes. Newton looked like she was torn between surprise and amusement.

"Are you saying that you lied about the boy's origins, Captain?" Lehrer looked thoughtful, and Chris shook his head.

"No sir. I was given custody of James from his mother, who was no longer able to take care of him. As it was a private matter, I kept the information I revealed during our initial interview simple. I was the only person he had left, Admiral; I was not lying," Chris said, meeting Lehrer's eyes. The older man considered him for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face, he then webbed his fingers together in front of his face and glanced over at Nogura.

"I seem to remember that you did especially well at your diplomatic courses during your Academy days, Captain. I should know, I taught some of them. I also know when I see an master at obfuscation and _bullshit_." Lehrer paused, and looked back at Chris. "Mr. Kirk's placement scores are beyond exceptional, Captain, he is easily one of the best you have recruited since you began in this position. In my personal opinion, I think we can overlook your...omissions from eleven years ago." Lehrer rose to his feet and gave Chris an approving nod. "For what it's worth, Captain, you appear to have done a fine job with that boy. I have seen people with similar issues fall apart, but Mr. Kirk is intelligent and confident in his own abilities, if he is a bit-"

"-wild," Chris finished, his mind flashing back to that bar in Riverside. Lehrer tilted his head in agreement. Commodore Newton got to her feet as well, her expression amused; Chris bit back a smile of his own. Newton faced Nogura, who still looked perturbed.

"It is my opinion that this is a non-issue, Admiral. Captain Pike may be guilty of omitting a few of the facts, but I have no doubt that he did not misrepresent the necessity of his custody of James. As far as I am concerned, the fact that the Captain isn't his biological father is of no consequence. I request for this meeting to be adjourned without censure." After a strained moment, Admiral Nogura pushed back his chair and stood, looking at all assembled with an irritated expression.

"It's a good thing that you are a damned good officer, Pike, that's all I have to say." Nogura scowled at Chris, who carefully kept his face blank. "Very well. Like any other in this situation, the teaching staff may be informed of your relationship if it becomes necessary, and should he be placed in any of the classes that you teach, you will be expected to be fair and transparent in your grading and conduct towards your son. Nepotism is not tolerated in Starfleet, Captain, be sure to remember this." Nogura picked up the PADD on the table in front of him, and walked around the table, stopping at Chris's side. "I sincerely hope you have no more surprise children hiding in the wings, Pike, even if they are Kirks. I grow tired of these meetings," Nogura said, giving Chris a sharp look. Chris shook his head.

"No more children, sir," Chris said, and Nogura snorted.

"Good." The door hissed closed behind Chris, and he nodded his thanks to Lehrer and Newton, the former raising an eyebrow.

"You appear to enjoy living dangerously, Captain. But don't mind me, I think we can stand a little shakeup now and again around here." Lehrer nodded to the Commodore and headed to the door. "I look forward to seeing Mr. Kirk's progress here at the Academy." Chris smiled.

"As do I, sir. As do I." Lehrer nodded and left, and Chris turned back to Newton, who had moved right in front of him. "I have a feeling you had your suspicions already, Commodore." Newton flipped back her hair and laughed.

"I did, but I was never certain. You both have blue eyes, but the resemblance ended there; I actually did a bit of research to see if George Kirk had any sisters when I realized who he reminded me of." She paused, and poked Chris in the shoulder. "I wonder how long it will take Nogura before he realizes that Archer already knew about this. I might recommend giving John a heads-up, otherwise you may be sleeping on the couch for a while." Chris's eyes flew wide as he choked on his own saliva, and Newton gave him a naughty grin. "A girl has to get her revenge somewhere, Chris. You've made me sit through two pointless meetings and suffer Nogura's bitching because of this." She sidled around the stunned Chris, and gave him a pat on the back as she headed for the door. "Honestly Chris, if you two aren't sleeping together, you might as well start. Most of Starfleet is convinced that you two are practically married as it is." Chris boggled at the blond woman, then finally managed to get his mouth to work.

"We're just friends!" Chris sputtered, and Newton burst out laughing all over again as she walked out the door. Right before it closed, she waggled a finger at him.

"Keep telling yourself that, Chris!" The door closed on her smirking face, and Chris pinched the bridge of his nose. Hearing a familiar voice, he walked to the room's sole window and looked through the blinds to the ground below. It took a moment of searching, then Chris saw Jim walk by in his new cadet reds, and what appeared to be that doctor he had recruited shortly before the bar incident with him, although without the weeks-growth of beard, it was hard to tell. Jim was waving his arms in defense of something, while the doctor looked vaguely irritated by the conversation. Chris felt a smile creep across his face, and he swiftly left the building. It only took a minute to catch up with Jim, who spotted him and gave a half-wave before quickly converting it into a jaunty salute; the doctor, who was much younger looking when he was cleaned up, gave a slow salute as well, the expression Chris spotted from before still firmly in place.

"Cadets." Chris nodded to the doctor before looking at Jim. Jim gave him a bright smile, the scratches from the fight now faint on his face, and the doctor- McCoy, that was it- nodded.

"Captain."

"How goes your first full day at Starfleet Academy, gentlemen?" he said, looking between the two men.

"Just settling in- sir," Jim said, almost forgetting the proper address; Chris saw McCoy glance over at Jim with concealed surprise. "They were even able to find a uniform for me." Chris nodded and turned to Jim, who was still smiling that brilliant smile; Chris suddenly felt like it was eleven years ago and Jim had just flown for the first time. Clearing his throat and ignoring the tightness that seemed to have spontaneously moved in, Chris addressed his son.

"Mr. Kirk, I would like to speak to you later at my office, if your schedule permits." Jim's eyes softened, and he gave a nod.

"Anytime, sir. Is sixteen-hundred permissible?" Chris allowed a small smirk at the formal tone. He was going to have to get used to that.

"I will expect you then, Mr. Kirk." Chris took a step back, and both Jim and McCoy gave a final salute as he spun on his heel and walked away. Chris could hear McCoy speaking as the distance grew between them.

"You two seem to be friendly." Chris slowed his pace, waiting for Jim's response.

"He helped me realize something very important," Jim said, his words barely audible. Chris paused mid-step and swallowed again against that annoying lump in his throat before setting off, not bothering to quell the grin that had overtaken his face.

* * *

Notes:

Holy shit. I keep getting longer and longer. :O The next story will be from Jim's POV again, and will actually rewind and overlap a bit with the end of this one, before continuing on into the academy.

Bones is finally here! But yeah, I did warn you that it was basically a glorified cameo. He'll be a full time player starting with the next one.

The drawing for this one will be coming later, I decided since this took so bloody long to go ahead and post it first.

Obviously, several lines were taken or paraphrased straight from the movie, due to the nature of the scene. DON'T SUE ME

Several things from the Yorktown bits were taken straight from the old-school source, including some of the elder Mr. Stipe's actions. Vague links to near-canon FTW!

Only a few musical references in _Or freely talk_:

1. The movie Jimmy and John are watching is _Victor, Victoria.  
_2. The planet Grange III was named after the ZZ Top song, _La Grange_.  
3. The two songs Chris and John sing at the end are _Sharp Dressed Man_ and _Gimme All Your Loving, _both ZZ Top songs (although I don't mention the second title.)

My brain is going on vacation. X_x


	5. In search of experience

**I know this took awhile, and...yeah. I hope you enjoy! My beta is still awesome. ;)**

**Title: **In search of experience  
**Series:** Western Skies (#5)  
**Author: **Anrui Ukimi  
**God-like Beta:** Welovethelegend  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Warnings:** AU, Wing!fic / #5-only warning: Attempted non-con  
**Word count: **61301  
**Pairings: **Jim/Bones, Chris/John...kinda.  
**Notes/Disclaimer: **Not mine, I just like playing with them. :)

Summary: Jim has issues. He knows this. People without issues don't generally get into bar brawls just to get their head to calm down. They also aren't completely paranoid over people trying to get into their pants. Honestly...he's just getting really tired of secrets.

Could also be called: Jim might be a bit in love. He may take awhile to figure this out, though.

In this story:

Jim - 21-25  
Chris Pike - 46-50  
John Archer - 57-61  
Winona Kirk - 50-54

* * *

**In search of experience**

Jim Pike né Kirk barely dodged the fist that would have shattered his nose, bending back as far as he could manage as encumbered by the harness. The momentum sent him to the floor, which, while painful, turned out to be a good thing, as the cops swept in seconds later and dragged the perpetrators out. Jim decided that staying where he was sounded like a intelligent plan, until one of the human cops walked up to him. Wincing against the twinges in his upper wings, Jim grabbed the edge of the table he was under and hauled himself to his feet, expecting to be dragged out with the idiots who had started this. Instead, the bartender intercepted the police officer and informed him that the kid had been a bystander only, and hadn't even thrown a punch before he had been knocked down. Not that he hadn't been thinking about it. The cop left, and Jim let himself slump into a chair. The remaining patrons had already done the same, and the rumble of voices returned to a more normal level as he grabbed a tortilla chip from the half-empty bowl sitting on the table and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly. The bartender cycled back around to him a few minutes later, setting down a glass filled with what looked suspiciously like Dr Pepper. Damn Texans and their Dr Pepper.

"I must confess, I didn't expect you to be so flexible, kid. On the house." The bartender chuckled as he used his fingertips to slide the drink over Jim, who made a face. "Considering you were involved, at least indirectly, I think it would be best if you were sober at the end of the evening. The police will probably be keeping an eye on the place." Jim grunted, taking hold of the cold glass.

"Thanks." The bartender gave him a friendly smile and raised his arm, and Jim watched with tired amusement as the man took a second glance at his back and gave him a pat on the arm instead.

"Sorry about the trouble," the bartender said, and Jim shook his head in dismissal as the man walked away. He had gone much longer without trouble than he thought he would; he had gone all the way from home through Mexico, and even Peru without a single issue. Figures that it would happen closer to his home soil. Downing the fizzy drink in one shot, he got to his feet and nodded to the bartender in thanks as he made his way from the bar. Last thing he needed was a criminal record. Dad would kill him. Jim stood by his bike for a few minutes, breathing in the cool night air and keeping an eye out for cops before heading back to the motel to crash. The next morning, Jim munched on a bagel from the deli outside the motel, ignoring the cream cheese he was getting on his upper lip, and wondered where he should go next. Like Chris had said, Teotihuacan was fascinating, Machu Picchu had been awe inspiring; but now he wanted to travel around the good ol' US of A. He popped the rest of his bagel into his mouth and chewed as he casually looked out onto the street, his eyes focusing on a middle-aged woman with blond hair walking on the opposite side of the street.

"That's something I haven't done in awhile," Jim muttered, wiping off his mouth with a napkin and rising to his feet. Mom. He hadn't talked to his mother since before he left on his road trip, dedicating any comm time to calling his dad. The motel room had a console for occupant use, and he sat himself in the uncomfortable seat in front of it, inputting the code for Commander Winona Kirk's personal comm address. Jim tilted the chair onto its back legs as he waited for it to connect. After thirty seconds or so, a familiar voice came through from the other end, sounding a bit out of breath.

"Commander Kirk speaking. Hello?" Jim gave a slight smile and leaned forward, causing his chair to return to resting with all four legs with a thud.

"Hi, Mom." Jim heard a sudden intake of breath from the other end, and suppressed a snort.

"Jim? Is that you? I haven't heard from you in awhile! How have you been?" Winona's tone sounded genuinely happy, and Jim relaxed a bit in his chair.

"Who else would call you Mom? Unless you were expecting a call from Sam or something." Jim paused. "Mind if I turn on the video feed?" Winona hummed a negative, and Jim hit the appropriate button. His mother's head and shoulders filled the screen, and he found himself looking her over. Her honey-blonde hair was partially white at the temples, her face was the same as always, with a few fine lines at the corners, and she was dressed in...overalls? Jim looked behind her head and got his answer immediately. That was no starship. "Mom, are you back in Iowa?" Winona brought up a hand and plucked at the left strap of the overalls, a smirk on her face.

"No no, Starfleet decided that these were the chic new style of our uniforms." Jim raised his eyebrows with an amused skeptical look, and Winona snorted. "Yes Jim, I was working outside when you called. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned her son. "Speaking of where the hell are you, where are you? That's not the Mojave house." Jim shook his head.

"I'm on a road trip. I needed a break from college. So what you see behind me is the fine upscale decor of a Texas motel," Jim said with a smile, and Winona's own eyebrows headed north.

"A road trip, huh? I'm surprised Chris let you go." Jim gave her a confused look. and Winona shrugged. "He is rather overprotective of you, Jim," she said blithely, and Jim frowned, propping his elbows on the table in front of him and resting his face in his hands.

"He just likes making sure I'm doing alright, Mom. He had no problem with me going, hell, he even suggested a place to go." Winona raised her hands palms out in an apologetic sort of gesture, and Jim restrained an eyeroll. "When did you get back dirtside?" Winona glanced away for a moment, then returned her eyes towards the screen.

"About two weeks ago. I've just been doing work around the house since I got here, a lot of things needed some maintenance." Jim nodded, and Winona continued. "Where have you gone on this big trip of yours?" Jim grinned, and sat back up in the chair.

"I just got back from doing a circuit of Mexico, with a detour to Machu Picchu. Dad suggested Teotihuacan, which was fantastic. Have you gone?" Winona shook her head, and gave Jim a quick once-over.

"No, never had time. I'm off-planet too much," she said, and smiled. "That explains the tan. Caught some rays down on the beach down there?" Jim gave her a dry look.

"I can't go sunbathing, Mom, you know that." The smile slipped off his mother's face, and Jim sighed silently. That had lasted longer than he thought it would. Time to change the subject. "How long until you go up again?" Winona looked relieved at the redirection, and she straightened in her seat, her expression recovering itself into a soft smile.

"I'll head out in a month." Winona ran a hand through her hair, the strands separating into loose bunches from dirt and oil. "So right around the time I get the house all fixed up again, basically." Winona gave a resigned smirk, and Jim looked at the wall behind her head.

"I'm surprised you haven't sold the place, now that no one is living there," Jim mused, and Winona gave him a strange look. "What?"

"No one ever asked Chris why he hadn't sold his Mojave house while you two were up on the Yorktown, did they?" Winona said her words slowly, an expectant look on her face; Jim blinked at her for a few moments. Winona chuckled, and leaned back in her chair. "You can be a bit dense sometimes, Jim." Jim's eyes widened, and he smacked his palm against his forehead.

"Right, stupid question. Moving on," Jim muttered, and his mom barked out a laugh. "Any other big plans before you go back up?" Winona shook her head.

"Nothing in particular. How about you? Decided where you are going next?" Jim tilted his head in thought, and Winona waited quietly.

"No, not yet, probably head towards New Orleans or something." Winona nodded, and gave a little smile.

"Now I _have_ been there. Mardi Gras, about twenty-five years ago. That was one hell of a party, let me tell you." Jim watched his mom's face flicker in an obviously happy memory, before she blinked and her face dulled. Jim could do the math. "Not the time of year for that, I think; I may be wrong though, it has been a long time." Jim nodded.

"So I've heard. Wine, women, and song, yeah? Sounds like a great party." Jim stretched his arms over his head and smiled naughtily. Winona rolled her eyes as he glanced at the time. "Well, Mom, I probably should let you get back to whatever I took you from. I've got one more call to make before I head out today." Winona nodded, and rose to her feet, but remained bent so her face was still in view.

"Say hi to Chris for me, and take care of yourself, Jim." She smiled, and Jim gave a short wave as the connection was cut. That had gone better than usual. Awkward conversation had been mostly kept at bay, and they had managed to keep it positive. Jim yawned and stretched, wincing when his wing bones strained against the harness. He needed to find a place to go for a flight in peace; probably on the way to New Orleans. Texas had a lot of open spaces, Jim mused as he dialed up the familiar code to Chris's personal comm. As the tanned, friendly face of his dad filled the screen, his laugh lines strong as he gave Jim a brilliant smile, Jim had a sudden stray thought. What if he had been arrested last night?

A hour later found Jim packing the saddlebags of his bike, and thinking about a question Chris had asked. He had conveniently ignored it during their conversation, but now it was all he could think about. Did he really want to visit his mother? The two of them had a relationship that usually suited Jim just fine. They spoke every few months, she usually sent a little something for Christmas (but never his birthday,) and that...was that. He hadn't seen her in the flesh since Chris had taken him from Iowa, and the frightened, disturbed look as she scuttled back into the shadows to get away from him that he last remembered seeing on her face still occasionally flashed through in his dreams. Jim closed up the saddlebags and straddled his bike. It had been almost ten years. A chance like this probably wouldn't come around again for a long time, and he knew it. Sighing, Jim started the bike and hit the kickstand. New Orleans first. He'd think about his mother later.

* * *

New Orleans was _awesome_. Fucking awesome. Jim couldn't get enough of it. He had missed Mardi Gras, but there was still so much to do; he felt his resolve over his...privacy waver a tiny bit as person after person sashayed, teased, and flirted around him, but that didn't stop him from other activities. He rather liked those activities, even if he had to keep his pants on; but two weeks after he got to the famous city, he was actually tiring of partying. Waking up every day with what tasted like death in his mouth and the acidic tang of alcohol in his nose was getting rather old, and he had been sleeping in his harness for the last week, which would be a problem once he took it off. He could already feel the itching spreading, and the usual dull ache of the muscles he wasn't using was slowly transforming into stabbing pain. It was time to go. There was nowhere in the packed city where he could go for a flight undetected, and Jim knew that it could actually be dangerous for him to go much longer without a decent stretch out. Jim rolled out of bed, and staggered into the bathroom to grab a quick shower. As he stood under the spray, harness still in place, he pondered his options. He could continue east and travel through the South- or he could head to Iowa. Where his mother was. Jim leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against the shower wall, the grooves of the tiles uncomfortable, but not enough to distract him from the path his thoughts were taking him. It had been ten years. In that time, Chris had become the father that many kids dreamed of, supporting and caring in all the best ways, stern when he needed to be; without resorting to the screaming and physical threats that had been his life with Frank before. His mother had become an idea more than a reality during that time, an obligation instead of a joy, and that was almost entirely on her shoulders. Did he want to face her alone? Jim sighed, and finished up his shower. No, but he needed to. He wasn't a child anymore, and Chris had far more important things he could be doing than walking him through a visit with his own mother.

* * *

Jim took his time heading to Iowa. He could have made Riverside in a day, if he had wanted to, but there was no reason to rush. As he entered the Iowa state limits three days later, however, Jim found himself wishing that he had forced himself to travel overnight, if only to keep moving so he wouldn't flake out. He stopped for the night in the southern portion of Sioux City, and spent the night in a fitful sleep. If he wanted self-discovery out of this adventure, he had a feeling that he was going to get it in spades very soon. The next morning, he choked down a greasy breakfast at a local cafe, and tried to convince himself that this was a good idea as he mounted up and headed into Riverside. His route took him by the shipyards, the metal framework tantalizing out of the corner of his eye as he sped past. He did not slow down. The fields were freshly planted and as boring as they ever were. Jim would take the mottled redgreybrown of the desert any time over this place, with its never ending sameness that made him want to turn right around and flee to the first place that knew what a cactus was. Jim slowed down as the silver siding of the house he had spent most of his first eleven years of life came into view, the building tall and ugly against the surrounding landscape. He was starting to think that maybe he had been adopted, and Chris was the family that had been desperately trying to find him. It was the only way to explain why everyone else in his family seemed fine with the sterile landscape of Riverside. He killed the engine and coasted to a halt in front of the house, staring at the front porch. The smell of the soil, damp from a recent shower, was almost soothing, dredging up long forgotten memories from the time when he got to be a normal child; before she had gotten remarried. It still felt strange, however, considering his affinity to the desert. Jim focused on it as he hit the kickstand and dismounted, trying to allow the scent to distract him from the sudden urge to turn right around and leave. He took a deep breath and walked up to the porch, raising a foot and wincing as the wood creaked under his weight. What the hell was he going to say to her?

"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you." Jim's head shot up at the dry tone, his eyes falling on the figure of his mother, half-obscured in shadow; he tried to get his mouth to move, but he was unable to get anything intelligent to come out.

"Uh?" Winona gave a soft sigh and opened the front door, stepping inside and holding it open behind her.

"Come on in, then. No reason to be standing around outside." Jim climbed the steps and paused at the threshold. Winona's eyes softened, but she said nothing as Jim stared at the door frame like it would tell him the secrets of the universe. Taking another deep breath, he looked at his mother and entered the house. "You planning on staying?" Jim gazed at the stairs, before listing his head to the side in thought.

"I honestly hadn't thought about it. I can get a motel in town, don't worry about it." She was so much smaller than him, Jim realized when she had to look up to speak to him; the last time he had seen her in person, he had only reached her chest. He stood a head taller than her now. Amazing what ten years does to a kid. Winona shook her head and gave a soft snort.

"Nonsense, Jim, you can stay here. If you don't want your old room, you can stay in-" Jim cut her off with a sharp look.

"My old room is fine. Thanks, Mom." Mother and son locked gazes for a moment, before she huffed and gave Jim a slight smile, lines that she didn't have ten years ago crinkling at the edges of her eyes with the effort. They were nothing like the smile lines on his dad's face, the lines that seemed to appear when Jim needed them most. There was no trepidation behind Chris's smiles.

"Well then, why don't you put your bag up there? I assume it's with your bike?" Her tone was light and questioning, and Jim nodded automatically.

"Yeah." Winona waved a hand, and Jim found himself back out by his bike, pulling his duffel out of the left saddlebag. The chill swirling in his stomach had not calmed, and he again fought down the urge to just leave. Snapping the saddlebag closed, Jim gave himself a little shake and walked back into the house. His mom was nowhere to be seen, so he climbed the stairs and opened the door to his old bedroom. It was basically as he left it, from what he could remember. A few ancient PADDs were still sitting on the bookshelf, and he could see his old baseball uniform folded and sitting on another, the leather of the glove dull with dust. A model of a NX-class starship, a broken model of a Daedalus-class ship, the left warp nacelle cracked; he could also see his copy of The Secret Garden, the only actual paper book he had owned up to that point, its cover worn and brittle with age. He had forgotten it in the rush to leave that day. Leaving footprints in the dust on the floor, Jim plucked the book from its spot and thumbed through it absently, before turning around and setting it on the bed. He shrugged his bag off of his shoulder, dropped it next to the book and left the room.

"Have you eaten, Jim?" Her voice trailed up the stairs, and Jim didn't answer as he entered the kitchen, cutting through the dining room and bypassing the front room. He didn't want to think of blood on the walls and his own mother flinching away from him right now, not when he had just arrived.

"I had breakfast in Sioux City." Winona looked up from the refrigerator, pulling out what appeared to be sandwich supplies. She shot the food a meaningful glance before meeting her son's eyes again, and Jim shrugged. "Sure. I think I'm hungry enough for lunch."

"Anything you can't eat?" Jim bit down the urge to say that she should know these things, but she wouldn't. She was barely there even when he was still living at the house, never mind the last ten years.

"What you have out looks great." Jim walked back to the dining room and fell into a chair, wondering if they were going to talk like this the entire time he was there. As lunch stretched into an awkward affair, with short stilted comments the only interaction between mother and son, Jim came to the conclusion that his musing was probably going to be accurate.

* * *

Amazing how two people can stay in the same house and eat all their meals together without really saying anything. One day turned into two turned into four; Jim helped out around the house, doing repairs and painting some of the third story rooms that were used primarily for storage. Jim kept his harness on, and Winona didn't bring up his wings. If his mother had noticed that he avoided the front room on the first floor, she hadn't said anything. Of course she wouldn't, Jim thought as he slapped paint on the walls of the storeroom. Why would she admit to something that would just make them both uncomfortable? The boxes that had been crowding the sides had been moved to the center to allow for him to paint, and when he stepped back to survey his work, his foot connected with one of them, spilling the contents on the hardwood floor. An ancient PADD bumped into the side of his foot, and he automatically bent down to pick it up. There was a name scratched loosely into the back of its casing, and Jim traced the letters with his fingers. If his stuff was still in his room, why was Sam's stuff boxed up and in the attic? He didn't think much about his brother anymore, not after years and years of getting no responses to his messages. Sam would be twenty-five soon, if he remembered his birthday correctly. Over ten years had passed he last saw him in the flesh, or even saw his face; after the whole debacle that ended up with him staying with Chris, he had sent a series of text only messages scattered with a few audio ones, receiving replies only for the first eight months or so, and had not received one since. His mother had been dismissive of the topic, Jim now realized as he thought back on the times he's brought him up in conversation; any mention of Sam led to her quickly changing the subject. Jim touched the etched letters of his brother's name one last time before leaning over and righting the box, placing the PADD back inside. Something to talk to his mother about later. Seeing a spot he missed, Jim picked the paintbrush back up and set back to work.

A few hours later, at dinner, Jim remembered to bring Sam up. "Why is Sam's stuff up in the attic?" As soon as he spoke, Winona tensed up almost imperceptibly before returning to her meal. Jim raised an eyebrow, but chose to take another bite of his dinner rather than say anything. Silence fell between them, broken only by the sounds of their silverware clicking against their plates, and Jim felt a thread of suspicion creeping into his mind as his mother continued to avoid looking at him. "When was the last time you spoke with him?" The older woman's hand tightened around her fork, and questions about the situation took shape in his head. "Why aren't you saying anything, mom?" Jim watched his mother take a deep breath, before finally raising her head and meeting his gaze.

"He hasn't been around for a while, and I decided to use his old bedroom as a guest room." Her tone was flat, and Jim smelled the lie a mile away.

"Why didn't you use my room instead? I was the one with the attached bathroom, not Sam. It would've made more sense." His mother's lips thinned as he spoke, and Jim stopped talking to let her speak.

"I didn't use your room because there was a greater chance of you stopping by." Jim leaned back in his chair, thinking about how to respond. Where the hell was Sam, anyway? Considering he hadn't been home in around ten years, Jim knew something was up. After gulping down most of his juice, Jim sent the glass down and angled his body in his chair, facing his mother directly.

"I don't suppose you have an explanation as to why he hasn't answered a single message that I've sent since soon after I left." A statement, not a question, and Jim knew he was pressuring her to respond. The two stared each other down for what felt like an eternity before Winona dropped her silverware to her plate and pushed herself away from the table. Jim didn't move as she got to her feet, but he never broke eye contact with her until her face scrunched and she looked away.

"I didn't want to lose you too," she said, and Jim didn't know what to say as he watched tears gather in her eyes. "At least I can still talk with you, even if I've lost you to Chris now." Jim was struck dumb with both confusion and anger, and he surged to his feet and slammed his hands on the table as he tried to formulate a response, his brain barely registering the sudden flash of fear in the older woman's eyes.

"You didn't lose me to Chris, you left me with him. Or have you conveniently forgotten that part of the story?" He could feel his wings straining against the synthetic skin of his harness, wanting to show his displeasure. It was clear that his mother saw something in his eyes that she didn't like, and Jim could not suppress the snort as she took a few steps away from him. "You still can barely stand to be in the presence of your freak son, I mean, look at you! I get a little irritated and you look like you want to find your phaser." He straightened his back and took a deep breath, but stayed in his position. "Where the hell is Sam?" His voice was like the Santa Ana winds, powerful and dry; Winona froze in place, before choking back a sob that made Jim's skin grow cold.

"I don't know, Jimmy. I haven't heard from him in years. He left home about a year after you did, and I've only received one message since." She clenched her fists, as if she was trying to control the tears that were now making her way down her face. Jim's jaw dropped.

"What the- are you saying he's _dead_?" He may not have spared much time to think about Sam over the last decade, but he was still his goddamned brother, and if he's been dead all this time and she kept it from him-

"No- no, I'm saying I have no clue where the hell he is. I've done some inquiries, had some people keep an eye out for me, but nothing has turned up." She spoke quickly, clearly trying to get the words out before she thought he would explode. She had a point. Jim forced himself to close his eyes and jaw, taking a series of deep breaths while refraining from saying something he would probably regret. Why hadn't she said anything? Jim opened his eyes slowly, fixing on his mother's pale face.

"Are you saying that he's been missing for almost ten years, and you didn't have the guts to tell me? What the fuck is this? I could have done something!" Jim hissed out the words as the older woman ran a shaking hand through her hair as she tried to collect herself. Jim felt his patience decaying as the moment stretched on.

"What could you have done? You were only twelve when he ran off, Jim! There isn't anything-" Winona was pacing as she spoke, looking not at Jim but at the walls around her; Jim slammed a hand down on the table, causing her to snap her head back in his direction.

"I could have asked Chris for help! Or even John! You know they have contacts and access to resources that you don't-" Jim said, his voice rising in volume as he spoke. He didn't expect Winona to grab a glass off the table and throw it at the wall behind him, her face contorted into an ugly expression he did not recognize.

"I refuse to ask Christopher Pike for anymore goddamned help!" Cold understanding flooded Jim as the older woman screamed, and he took a step back and allowed himself to lean against the table. Looking at her again, he realized that he knew exactly what expression was in her eyes. That was guilt mixed with an inexplicable shot of...jealousy. The guilt was easy to understand, even before everything happened, she had been off planet more than on; he would have described her as a distant parent by the time he was in second grade. But jealousy...what the hell was she jealous about? Jim let his lip curl as the answer came to him, and he ignored the angry gasping breaths of his mother as he mused it over. She couldn't stand the fact that Chris had succeeded where she had failed, not once, but twice over. Jim bit back a snort and met his mother's eyes, letting her know exactly what he thought of her statement as he opened his mouth.

"Is that what this is about? _Is that what this is about_? If it wasn't for him, I'd probably be dead and you know it. Or are you conveniently forgetting the fact that you were rambling for hours to him about- what was it? Oh yeah, me belonging with the angels. Isn't that right?" He was on a roll now, and although she immediately began shaking her head in denial, he could see the wind go out of her sails as she slumped into a chair. The room fell silent except for the sound of breathing, and Jim couldn't think of anything else to say. When Winona raised her head, the look in her eyes made him want to turn around and walk out the door.

"Jim, that's not what I meant; I was just scared, I didn't know what was happening to you. I panicked and called Chris, but I never expected him to actually take you-" They were done. She was only making excuses now, and Jim cut her off with a roll of his eyes.

"_Bullshit_. You couldn't even look at me when he brought me back down after helping me clean up. You stayed in the shadows and wouldn't talk to me. Or am I completely imagining this, too?" Jim crossed his arms and looked down at the blond woman, the lines around her eyes stark in the poor artificial lighting, making her look far older than her years.

"Jim, I know I screwed up. But I didn't think I would be able to take you back, not with the darling of Starfleet acting as your father-" She wasn't even listening to her own words anymore. Jim moved away from the table and walked a few steps towards the exit, before turning around and shaking his head.

"Well, at least he tried, unlike certain other people I know who won't even tell their own son that 'oh, by the way, your brother is missing; but I'm not going to tell you for some ten years because I know that you'll ask Chris for help, and we can't have that because I'm a guilt-ridden bitch who refuses to take responsibility for her own mistakes-'" Jim drawled, and watched dispassionately as she leapt from her chair in anger.

"You are out of line, Jim-" Winona said, her words coming out in a strangled tone. Jim rolled his eyes again and passed through the door before replying.

"Am I?" He spoke without turning around, closing his eyes against the choked noises he could hear behind him. He had to leave. This farce had gone on too long. Jim walked up the stairs to his old bedroom, and quickly stuffed the small amount of clothing he owned back into his duffel, following suit with his toiletries, then giving the entire area a swift look over. The Secret Garden sat on the nightstand next to the bed, and Jim took it and carefully placed it in with his clothes before striding from the room, closing the door behind him. His mother was at the base of the stairs, looking up at him with a lost expression that he felt nothing but pity for. He said nothing as he descended the stairs, but stopped once he had walked a few steps beyond her. "I give up. I'll get out of your hair now, so you can go back to your own life without me fucking it up. Do me a favor, send me a note if you ever manage to find Sam. Or drop me a line if you find his corpse. One or the other." Jim didn't wait for a reply. Opening the front door, he stepped out onto the porch, the night sky overcast and cool as he shrugged on his jacket. A thin-fingered hand clasped his shoulder as soon as his jacket was on, and he heaved a deep sigh before turning around and facing his mother. Jim could see the moisture building back up in her eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Jim, stop, please; I'm sorry I insulted Chris, I know you're rather defensive about him, and I'm just frustrated with the situation-" It was times like this that Jim wondered how she ever rose to her rank in Starfleet; a person who could not account for their own failures without blaming others was of no use in any serious organization. He didn't have the energy to argue anymore, raising an eyebrow as he stepped away from her reaching hand and walked down the stairs of the porch towards his bike. He could hear her moving behind him, but did not acknowledge her until he was seated on his motorcycle.

"I do point out that this is a situation that you largely created ten years ago, mom." Winona closed her eyes, and Jim leaned over and fired up the bike. "I'll be seeing you around." Giving her a quick nod, he hit the kickstand and angled his bike towards the front of the property. Jim did a quick glance into his side mirror as he exited the gates. His mother was still standing there, staring blankly in his direction. The night was perfect for a quick flight, and Jim drove straight to the familiar and unnatural canyon that had almost been the location of his first actual flight. He gave little more than a cursory look at the area before ripping off his shirt and harness and leaping headfirst into the quarry. He didn't come down until the sky grew light and his skin was chapped from the cold.

* * *

Jim had gone out of his way to try and forget the entire encounter. Several days of aimless riding had landed him in New York, tense and distracted; he had been there once before, on a rare trip with his mother over fifteen years prior, but it wasn't like he remembered anything. He traveled to the city and played tourist for a while; the Statue of Liberty had been restored after the wars, and as he stood on the observation deck in the statue's crown, he mused about how great a launching site it would be. Several days later, Jim was repeating the experience, instead this time on the top floor of the Galactic trade center, which was celebrating its hundredth anniversary by giving free tours of the historic building. He went through the motions, mechanically following the tour guide, a good-looking young man who was probably a few years older than him, as he explained the history and the schematics of the structure. The tour was interrupted by an old woman questioning him on a fact, and Jim was forced back to awareness when the young man gave a smile clearly meant to appease the elderly woman. The faint dimples that appeared looked just like Sam's, and Jim found himself losing all interest in what was going on around him. Slipping away from the tour group, he crossed over to the other side of the floor and looked out the clear aluminum windows. The building was one of the tallest in the world, but he had no problem making out the distinct shapes of the people below. It was no different from tracking animals in the desert. Almost ten years. Sam had been missing that whole time and his own mother couldn't get herself together enough to tell him, too jealous of Chris and too frightened of him to rock the boat. Jim found himself laughing, a quiet humorless act that sounded more like he was crying; he didn't even realize that his face was wet until the voice of the tour guide sounded from behind him.

"Sir?" Jim wiped at his face quickly as he turned around, the polite expression on the man's face giving way to slight concern. "Sir, are you all right?" Moving his hand away from his face, Jim shook his head and sighed.

"I'm fine, just thinking about things." The tour guide raised his eyebrows, but Jim could see that he knew better than to ask. The man raised an arm, and gestured towards the rest of the tour group.

"I'm afraid it's required that all visitors remain with their group, sir, unless you would prefer to leave?" His tone was faintly apologetic, and Jim suddenly felt a little embarrassed about the whole affair. "No, I'll finish the tour." He followed the guide back to the group, barely processing the information as the tour began again, but instead found himself wondering if John had done the same tours when he was a kid.

Jim traveled upstate before he remembered that John had told him that although he had been born in New York, he had spent much of his youth in San Francisco. He took the opportunity to enjoy the scenery, and even risked a short flight in the Adirondack Mountains, noting the differences from his familiar mountains in the Mojave before nearly sideswiping a small cabin near one of the summits. It took hours for him to calm his heart down to a normal rhythm. The incident spooked him, and he cleared out the same day, driving until he ended up in a mediocre motel in Buffalo. His funds were running low, but after some poking around, he found an aftermarket hovercar modifier willing to let him work for a few weeks on a fleet of cars he needed programming work done on, and he got down to business. Days were spent coding, and nights were spent either in his room or at various bars, mingling with the locals. He gave a quick call to Chris, but he couldn't really think of what to say.

When the odd jittery feeling started around the time he wrapped up on the vehicles, Jim disregarded it in his search for another short-term job. After another few weeks fixing bikes at a garage, Jim was finding it hard to concentrate, and when the owner told him to leave and not return until he got off whatever drugs he was on, he knew he had a problem. He insisted that he wasn't on anything to the weathered, craggy visage that was scowling down at him, and the man had just sighed and told him to figure it out. As Jim walked back to his room, he could only think of one thing.

He couldn't recall how long it had been since he had done that aborted flight in the Adirondack Mountains.

* * *

Jim didn't even remember how the damn mess started. But as he ducked a fist and sent one of his own into the gut of one of his assailants, he came to the conclusion that he really didn't care. His mind was racing as he staggered back from a foot that clipped his shoulder, his skin tingling with a sensation he knew all too well. As another bastard clipped the side of his mouth with a broken beer bottle, the surge of adrenaline was almost too much for him. His face was burning from the fresh gash, his ears ringing from a blow that had landed earlier, but the feeling rushing through his body was one that he could never get enough of; that same buzz he got when he was in the dry desert air, gliding on the currents. Jim never thought that he would get that rush from a damn bar brawl. The grin was plastered on his face before he even realized it, earning Jim angry shouts from the other participants as they ganged up on him.

"What the fuck is so funny?" The guy looked like a bad cross between an ugly Klingon and a donkey, exceptionally unfortunate considering Jim was pretty sure he was human. He also had a glass jaw, as Jim found out in a jarring moment that almost kicked him out of his adrenaline high; the sickening crack as his fist broke the asshole's jaw was one he hadn't heard since he had crashed into that jutting rock near the house at fifteen when Chris was on leave. It seemed to signal the end of the fight, as the injured man fell back against the bar with a strangled moan, and Jim was knocked to the floor by the cops he hadn't even noticed show up, a knee pressed into the base of his spine hard enough that he could feel it through the harness and his wings. He wasn't the only one; Jim watched from his rather low vantage point as the others were hauled out of the disaster that they had wrought on the place and dragged outside. When all the other brawlers were taken out, the attention shifted to him. The knee withdrew as hands wrapped around his biceps and pulled him to his feet, the support keeping him from swaying in place. The rush was gone, all that was left was the throbbing of his body and the taste of blood in his mouth. He had always hated to come down.

"What were you trying to prove, kid?" The officer standing in front of him just looked tired, and Jim blinked owlishly at the man. He wasn't trying to prove anything, he just wanted to- fuck, he didn't know. Officer...McLean sighed and shook his head. "I know that bunch of idiots are no angels, but you broke his jaw, kid. I can't just wave you off with a warning." Jim's mind was trying to fight through the haze of liquor and pain to parse the wavy-haired man's words, and it wasn't until a scanner of some sort was produced that it clicked. He was under arrest.

"Oh fuck." Jim's mouth slurred the words around the blood coating his tongue, and the officer gave him a wry look.

"Took you long enough. Got your head knocked around a bit, from the looks of it." The man pointed the device at Jim's feet, and the anxiety that had been coming into existence filled his veins with ice.

"Whass' that?" The mumbled question seemed to surprise the officer, who paused in his actions and looked up at Jim.

"First time getting up this close and personal to a police scanner? Newest model on the market, you should feel honored. Try not to make this a hobby, and we'll get along great, kid." McLean wiggled the device in the air. "I'm just checking to make sure you don't have any weapons on you. Anything else I find will be returned when you are released. Safer than a patdown, not with all these telepathic species and what not." The scanner reached his waist, and Jim tried not to squirm as the officer reached into his pants and removed his bike key and wallet, slipping them into a bag he pulled from somewhere. When he reached mid-torso, McLean gave his scanner an odd look. "Care to explain why I'm picking up large quantities of bio-plast, kid?" Jim's jaw tensed, but the man didn't reach for him, and a glance at his side revealed a way of explaining. Gesturing with his chin, he indicated the cut in his shirt.

"Birth defect...the bio-plast is used as extra protection to keep the mangled mess of my back together." It was one of the long-held cover stories, and it was only the second time it had ever been used. He was pretty sure he had gotten lucky over the years. The explanation worked; all three officers gave varying expressions of pity, and after McLean poked at his side through the rip, he finished up the scan and stepped back.

"Sounds like the last thing you needed to be doing is to get into a fight with the locals. I can't keep calling you kid, you got a name?" Jim almost said the usual answer, his mouth opening to utter _James Pike_ like every other time he had been asked that in the last ten years; he practically bit his tongue to shut himself up. They'd have Chris on the comm in minutes, and this was not the way he wanted to see him again. There was only one solution. The name was almost alien to him now, like a possession loaned and forgotten about for years before being returned, and he took a deep breath before opening his mouth.

"James Kirk." He didn't know what he expected from that revelation, but the calm entering of the information into a PADD by the officer was all he could hope for at this point. After a minute, the officer looked up.

"Looks like it really is your first encounter with us, Mr. Kirk. I'm going to cuff you in front instead of behind your back, but one sign of trouble and I'll have you stunned, got me?" Jim nodded mechanically, and the officers holding his arms pulled them to hang in front of his crotch, tightening a strap around his wrists. "Time to go tour the local precinct, Mr. Kirk. Behave, and you'll be done with us in less than twenty-four hours."

It ended up being around thirty-six, but the judge was in the hospital. Officer McLean handed back his belongings personally, and gave Jim a short farewell speech that summed up to the phrase "Keep your nose clean, and I won't have to see you walk out of here again." Misdemeanor assault charges, but since it was his first offense, they let him off with a fine. He had enough credits to pay his motel bill and clear out of Buffalo. He had no intention on sticking around, it would only invite trouble.

In retrospect, he should have listened to the officer's advice. And the advice of every other officer and bartender who looked at him with exasperated pity as he picked himself (or was picked up) off yet another bar or club floor, nursing new bruises and feeling that elusive rush fading. Having a pretty face (and a fucked up looking back, but Jim preferred to assume the former) helped him get out of a lot of shit, but as Jim glared at the cop taking his booking photo in whereverthefuck Indiana, he wasn't sure if he was angrier at the police or at himself. The holding cell they threw him into was a first, last time he had been just handed a warning and told to not come back. Well, there was more places he could go to. Not in Indiana, though. Nothing to do but to drink.

After managing a night without getting in too much trouble, Jim decided that he wanted to talk with his mom again. He didn't know why he was willing to give her another chance, but it sounded like a good idea at the time. That tequila concoction he had tried that night probably had something to do with that. A short comm call later led to a pre-programmed message from her console, stating that she was offplanet and would be so for eight months. Fucking figured. He left a message and decided to look for a job in town the next day. He was tired of picking insects from his bedding before going to sleep every night.

* * *

Jim was in the process of picking himself off the floor of the oldest bar he'd ever been in when the song came on over the vintage sound system, and he managed to stagger away from the ongoing scuffle to listen to it. He had heard it before, years ago when he would poke through his dad's music collection; but it floored him now as he let the words drift through his alcohol-fogged brain, and he noticed the bartender giving him a strange look as he sagged against the mahogany counter-top.

"...little boy blue and the man in the moon..." Jim mouthed the words along with the ancient recording, and as his lips formed "-when you coming home, son? I don't know when..." he felt a horrible sense of guilt overwhelm him. God, what the hell was he doing? He never felt like doing this back in the desert, where he would just go for a flight if he felt angry. None of this...fighting shit. All it was bringing him was a police record and scars. Jim sighed. He hadn't done more than stretch out his wings in almost two months. His brain was wired for flight, he knew this; why he was ignoring his natural urges was beyond him, all it was succeeding in doing was to make him irritable and confrontational. There were places he could sneak off to, but he hadn't bothered. Jim choked on his own spit when the song came to an end. He hadn't spoken to Chris in over two months. He hadn't gone that long without speaking to him since he had moved in with him. The realization wasn't a pleasant one, and Jim didn't even realize that he was starting to tear up until the bartender handed him a napkin and an ultimatum.

"Get out of here, kid. You have more sense than this. I'm tired of seeing you introduce your face to the local rabble's fists." Jim took the napkin from the middle-aged woman, crushing it in his fist before quickly wiping his eyes.

"What the fuck is it to you?" Jim growled, knowing his cheeks were reddening from embarassment. The woman barked out a laugh before leaning over the counter and whispering in his ear.

"I watched you talk down our local self-proclaimed physics genius in less than ten minutes last night, kid, and although the bastard is completely full of hot air, he's damn smart. I thought he was going to deck you as you walked away, he was so pissed." She chuckled. "You don't belong here. Go home, talk to your pa." Jim jerked away from her, suddenly furious, and the woman shook her head. "Kid, you pulled yourself outta the fight to listen to that song; you have daddy issues." Jim rolled his eyes. Who the hell did this woman think she was? He shook his head and slapped his credit chip down on the counter.

"Whadda I owe you?"

Jim left the bar and walked down the street towards his home for the night, an old motel that was probably constructed before the first warp-powered flight. Entering the room, Jim pulled off his jacket and threw it on the bed, the ugly spoiled cream comforter clashing horribly with the leather. Fuck, he was tired of this shit. He couldn't even go into a bar and enjoy a drink anymore without having someone getting up in his business. Yeah, he knew the fights were idiotic, but it was the only way to relieve that damn tension that kept building up in the back of his mind. Just because he stopped to listen to a song doesn't mean he wanted an analysis on his mental state. Jim sighed and allowed himself to fall onto the squeaky mattress. He really needed to call his dad. Jim looked at the ceiling, which was a strange texture that reminded him of popcorn, and focused on a stain that reminded him of Amboy Crater. After two months, would Chris even be willing to speak with him? Chris, who had always been so diligent about keeping in contact, even when he was off planet, and look how he repaid him; racking up a criminal record and acting like a selfish ass. Jim pulled himself off the bed, and staggered into the bathroom to clean up. He was too sore to deal with this shit, he would think about it tomorrow. After digging up his worn toothbrush and scrubbing his teeth, he kicked off his boots before falling face first onto the bed, not bothering to remove his belt or to cover himself with the sheets before he fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning found him halfway on the floor, his ass in the air and his belt buckle digging painfully into his gut as he clawed at the blankets to get his legs back on the bed. He hated sleeping in the harness, hated how it made his wings ache and his skin sensitive, but he had no choice. Not in a place like this, where it wasn't unlikely for rooms to be broken into without warning, regardless of occupants. Jim would stay at a nicer place, but the small amount of credits you need doing odd jobs as he traveled didn't account for it, and he wasn't about to ask Chris for help, not after blowing him off so long. He had no doubt that Chris would send him any funds he needed, but- he didn't deserve it. Laying on his stomach in bed, Jim looked over at the console sitting on the weathered desk near the bed. Like everything else in the motel, the console was one of the oldest models he had ever seen, but it should work just fine for what he needed it to do. Groaning as he rolled out of bed, he picked up his leather jacket, which had fallen to the ground after he went to sleep, and slung it over the back of the chair by the desk as he headed back into the bathroom. After relieving himself and poking at the previous night's bruises and scratches while looking in the mirror, Jim walked back out into the bedroom and sat down in front of the console. The clock on the wall read oh-nine hundred, which was around the time Chris usually settled in to start on his morning routine of drinking liters of asskickingly powerful coffee while reviewing his schedule for today. Jim clicked his tougue against the roof of his mouth as he powered on the ancient console. At least that has been his routine as of two months ago; it would be his own damn fault if his routine had changed, because it wasn't like he was talking to the man to know any better. He entered the number to connect him straight to Chris's office, and paused right before he initiated the call, taking a deep breath. He could do this. When Chris's face appeared on screen, the older man setting down his coffee as his eyes widened in surprise, Jim felt tension he didn't even know he had uncurl at the base of his spine.

"Hi, Dad." Chris's blue eyes narrowed slightly, and Jim could feel guilt replacing that tension as he opened his mouth.

"Long time no talk, son," Chris said, and Jim could hear the worry in his dad's tone as he struggled to figure out something to say.

"I know it's been awhile, and I'm sorry; things just got busy and I lost track of time." Jim pouted slightly when Chris raised an eyebrow. "What?" Chris shifted in his seat, his eyes never leaving Jim's face.

"Too busy to speak with your old man, Jim? Forty-six and I've already been put out to pasture." Chris gave a theatrical sigh, his whole body sagging with the act, and Jim snorted in response.

"Dad, you'll be over a hundred and still kicking ass, don't even start that old man crap." Jim smirked, but watched as Chris got a focused look on his face.

"Where did you get the scar, Jim?" Jim watched Chris's hand rise and tap at a spot near his mouth. Oh. Jim managed to wave a hand to dismiss his concern.

"I don't remember, maybe in Mexico? Doesn't matter," he drawled out, and he watched Chris fighting back something from his expression, his eyes closing slowly. The moment stretched thin, and neither side spoke for a long while. Chris broke the silence first.

"I have a question for you, Jim." Jim tensed, but tried not to show it as his dad straightened in his seat and fixed those eyes on him. "When you were younger, I put an flag on your original profile to make sure no one else was using your identity." Jim almost laughed. Chris was good at obfuscating in his professional life, but he was a shit liar otherwise. He knew that Jim kept an eye on things, and he would have noticed years ago if he had done what he had just claimed. Jim's expression soured, and he shot the older man a dubious look; watching as his dad flushed slightly before starting again. "Alright, no, I didn't. I did however check from time to time. After not hearing a word or getting even a basic text message from you for months, it- came to mind again." Jim had known this day would come. Chris wasn't a goddamned starship captain for shits and giggles; he knew how to utilize his sources. Jim wasn't an idiot, he would bet money that John had thought of checking the Kirk record; Dad tended to get emotionally involved when it came to him, and had more than once missed really obvious things. But when Jim looked at Chris, his normally expressive face drawn and hurt, he couldn't fight back the guilt that surged to a boil in his chest. "It's entirely your right, son, I have no right to insist differently, but-"

"Dad." Jim cut him off, and watched Chris's mouth close. Jim let his head fall into his hands, and he ran his fingers through his hair, letting his nails scrape his scalp as he tried to figure out how to talk to Chris, to _tell_ him that it wasn't because of him, it was because of the circumstances. Jim let his hands fall back to the table as he raised his head, and he could see his dad suck in a breath. He could do this. "It's not like that. I decided after nearly getting caught up in someone else's dumb fight in Texas that I didn't want you to get connected to any stupid shit that might happen to me. I didn't want anything to cast a bad light on you, especially while you are waiting on your ship." He could feel his eyes gathering moisture, and he hoped that willpower alone would keep him from crying. It was obvious that Chris saw something there, and he was forced to look away as the older man let his head fall into his own hands. He had fucked up. Not like this was a new phenomenon, but seeing Chris's distress right in front of him brought the matter firmly home. Chris had probably been enjoying his day, hell, enjoying his life until he had called. Jim was so busy feeling guilty that he didn't even notice Chris lift his head back up and look at him again.

"Jim, I'm a grown man. You don't need to be protecting me all the time; my career is perfectly safe, and I- Jim, what am I supposed to do if you need my help and you aren't in any shape to contact me yourself?" Chris was unhappy with him, Jim could hear it in his voice, and he spat out a response without stopping to think.

"I'll be fine, you've spent enough time worrying about me these past ten years; you deserve some peace and without me messing up your life any longer." Jim snapped his jaw shut. Where the hell had that come from? The look that was suddenly on Chris's face was one he had never seen directed at him before, and he repressed a shudder.

"Is that what you think, Jim, that I considered you nothing but a burden? I thought we knew each other better than that. Or was I wrong?" Chris's jaw was clenched tightly shut, his words coming out in furious hisses that scared the shit out of Jim. This was not, _not_ going well. He shook his head rapidly, feeling like a child denying that his hand had been in the cookie jar. He had to say something, anything-

"Fuck, no- but why? You could have easily just left me there, but you took me in and sacrificed everything for me! You could be married now, or shacked up with John permanently-" Jim was falling apart. He never made John comments in serious conversation, but here he was being an idiot- "You could have been passed over for the Enterprise because of me-"

"_James._" That brought Jim to a complete halt, his mouth hanging open. Chris hadn't called him by his full name in years. "I could have been passed over for a laundry list of reasons, Jim, you don't even rate in the top ten." The older man was lying, he knew that, but even after giving him so much shit to deal with it, Chris was still trying to make him feel better. What had he done to deserve this? "Why are you suddenly going on about this now? I thought we had talked about this years ago." Jim had no answer. He was afraid of saying something else that he would regret, so he decided not to say anything at all. It was clearly not what Chris wanted, however, and his dad shot him a sad look. He didn't have the guts to look at his dad's eyes anymore. "Jim, _please_."

"I've gotta go, I've got to be at work in fifteen minutes." It was only half a lie, the garage he was helping at paid him daily based on the work he completed, if he chose to show up. If he was going to go, he would need to be there soon. He watched Chris grind his teeth together for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

"Just- just be careful, son," the older man murmured, and Jim forced himself to meet his dad's eyes as he said goodbye and severed the connection. Jim sat silently in the uncomfortable chair, staring at the menu screen on the console. He wasn't quite sure how he thought that conversation would go, but the reality was both better and worse than he had imagined. Chris knew about his arrests, about the dumb shit he had been pulling, but hadn't issued any ultimatums. Jim took a deep breath as he slid the chair back and got to his feet. He was running low on funds, so he might as well go in and do some work. It would give him time to process.

* * *

He just wanted a drink. Jim wasn't in the mood for fighting, wasn't really in the mood for conversation; but he replied politely to those who spoke to him and let his body language and lack of engagement alert them that he wasn't interested. This was the first time he had been to this bar, so he ignored the curious looks and double-takes that people gave him as he downed his fifth shot of the night, staring at the wall behind the counter unseeing. He really shouldn't be getting drunk, it just caused him to do stupid shit that landed him in fights, leading to him thinking about Chris's worried face; and Jim hated that he was the one doing that to the man who had done more for him than he could ever repay. Jim looked up with a grimace as the bartender set down number six in front of him, and he shook his head and got to his feet. After settling his tab, he walked out the front door, taking in the cool night air. He really shouldn't be driving, but the cheap motel he was staying at was only a few kilometers away, and he didn't want to leave his bike. Jim walked down the small alley to the side of the bar, stopping with a curse when he stubbed his toe. The light behind the bar was out. Fucking irritating, but he had good night vision. Jim stood still and gave his eyes a moment to adjust.

"Oh, is this _your_ bike, pretty boy?" The voice was rough and unfamiliar, and Jim bit back a groan.

_Fuck._"It might be. What's it to you?" Jim could see the entire...pack now; large, dirty looking fellows that were probably the local layabouts and career petty criminals. He never took his eyes off of any of them as he approached his bike. "It's getting kinda late, guys, so let me wish you a good night-"

"Not so fast, cocksucker." Jim whirled around as he felt the heat at his back, but it was too late. Before he could get an arm up to swing, two of the men surged forward, grabbing his arms as the man he hadn't noticed wrapped a hand around his throat and slammed him against the wall of the bar. "You looked so lonely in the bar, sweetcheeks, but you acted like a rude bitch and shut my friend down." Jim struggled against the hands holding him, futilely trying to escape the speaking man's horrible breath. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't go home before having some fun, hmm?" The man kept his grip around Jim's throat, but moved his body away to address the others. "What do you think, boys? Should we help the cute little freak out?" It was the distraction Jim needed. Bringing his legs up, he kicked the two men holding his arms, immediately using his freed limbs to shove at the man who had him in a choke hold. Surprise was in his favor, and the man staggered back; Jim shoved past the three men and started to run towards the alley leading to the main street. He didn't get far. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as he was slammed into from behind, knocking him to the gravel and making his wings scream with pain.

"You are going to pay for that, you fucking whore!" It was more than three of them now, as Jim was dragged back into the dark. His arms and legs were all being held prisoner, and a queasy feeling was spreading in his gut as he thrashed against his captors.

"What the fuck do you want, assholes? I wasn't bothering you!" The man who had been choking him before reappeared, but instead of grabbing his neck again, he ran his meaty hand down Jim's chest, and Jim realized with a surge of nausea that this wasn't a normal fight. "The fuck- stop touching me-" He shouted the last words as the man slapped his hand over Jim's mouth.

"Now now, you wouldn't want anyone disturbing us, would you?" The man's free hand continued its path down, grabbing Jim's crotch painfully tight; Jim yelled into the hand muffling him and blinked at the tears of pain that had appeared at the corners of his eyes. "Like that, do you? Little slut. You'll just take it wherever you can, won't you?" The bastard started fumbling at his belt, and an entirely different fear swept over Jim. _Not like this._ Jim hadn't been hiding his wings for over ten years to have the shit hit the fan courtesy of a group of rapists outside a bar. No fucking way. He felt his belt pop open, and the fucker's hands returned to the front of his pants, popping the button and pulling down the zipper. He had no more time. Jim opened his mouth as wide as he could and bit down on the hand covering it. Blood flooded his mouth, and the man shrieked with pain and recoiled. "Screw fucking you, I'll going to kill you!" Jim realized that that might have been a bad idea, as the man's uninjured hand was suddenly around his throat, and squeezing with a purpose. Jim coughed and twitched as dark spots began to fill his vision, and fuck, he was going to die in the most pathetic way possible-

"Everyone freeze!" The area was suddenly enveloped with light, and the main bastard's buddies scrambled to their feet and tried to escape, but were thwarted by the police that swarmed into the area. The sick fuck's hand was still around his throat, but shock had loosened his grip enough for Jim to take in shaking breaths. Before he gathered enough energy to try and dislodge himself, his attacker was being pulled off of him. "We need an ambulance!" Fear and relief were dueling in his gut, but the fear spiked at that statement. Pulling himself to a sitting position, Jim shook his head as he spit out the bastard's blood.

"No ambulance! I'm fine." Jim sat coughing into a sleeve, and the cop who had shouted for help knelt to his level.

"Kid, you aren't fine. Just a short trip, yeah? Get those cuts and your throat looked at." Jim could hear the genuine concern in the police officer's voice, but there was only one answer to this.

"No...ambulance. Please." He could feel his body want to shake, but he focused everything he had on keeping himself still. The police officer gave him a long hard look before sighing and rising to his feet, extending an arm to Jim.

"If you insist. Why don't you go in with Mr. Kantner and get yourself cleaned up; we'll talk to you after we finish with these guys." Jim allowed himself to be helped to his feet, and a hand on his shoulder alerted him to the bartender, who looked like a worried grandfather as he was led back into the now-empty bar through the back doors.

"You alright, son?" Jim couldn't keep the words that boiled out of his roiling gut down, and they shocked him with their venom.

"I...am _not..._your son," Jim snarled, his throat twinging in protest. Kantner's eyes widened momentarily, but he seemed to see something in Jim's face that Jim himself didn't know, and Jim watched the man's eyes close for a moment before reopening. The older man gave him a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes, and led him to a table.

"Rest here, I'll be right back." As soon as the man walked away, Jim gave a full-body shudder and let his head drop to the table. Too close. His stomach wouldn't stop with the nausea, and he didn't even register the wastebin being shoved under his chin until he was reduced to dry heaves, the warm hand of the bartender resting on the back of his skull. "You should have let them take you to the hospital." Jim slumped back in the chair, and the man went away with the fouled trash can and came back with a glass of water. "Anyone I can call for you?" For a moment, a long moment that made Jim feel eleven again, with tears pricking the corners of his eyes and an unvoiced sob crawling into his throat, he wanted to tell the old man to call his dad, that he just wanted to go home. Chris would do it, too; he would drop everything and swipe the first available shuttle to come get him, and he didn't deserve that. Not after ignoring him for months and making the man worry. He needed to deal on his own. Jim ran his hands over his face.

"Don't worry about it."

* * *

His mother was only supposed to be gone for two more months, from the information he had gleaned from the computer he hacked into at her house. But two months had turned into almost four, and Jim was tired of waiting. He had gone for months without getting in trouble, excepting the _incident_ that had ended with his saddlebags wrecked and a sealed mention under his record. There had been a few scuffles at the Shipyard Bar, but Nelson was understanding, and he made sure he wasn't the one starting anything. He had been able to sneak in some late-night flights over at the old quarry, where the rusting hulk of the car was still resting; that had gone a long way in keeping him calm. The recruiting officer from the shipyard talked to him on occasion, which Jim didn't mind (she was a real fox,) and was irrationally happy that she didn't try to push the fleet on him. Jim was running out of ideas, and was still jumpier than he would ever admit to. If he tensed a bit when a large, rough-looking fellow got a little too close while he relaxed at the counter, Nelson never said anything and Jim pretended it never happened.

When the red-clad cadets appeared at the bar in addition to the usual Starfleet personnel from the shipyard, Jim began to consider clearing out of town. He didn't want the reminders of his dad and everything around while he tried to figure out what to do with his life. He flirted with a few of them, got the usual collection of double-takes and odd looks, and tried to ignore the rest. When a lovely woman came up to the bar and ordered enough drinks to single-handedly start a party, he had to strike up a conversation, despite already being completely buzzed; she appeared honestly impressed that he knew what xenolinguistics was. Did he really look that dumb? When a bald cadet took one look at the two of them and decided that the freak "townie" didn't have the right to talk with Cadet _Uhura_, it went downhill quickly, partially thanks to a cocky alcohol-fueled statement from him, but entirely thanks to a bunch of stuck-up assholes.

"Knock it off, you guys!" Uhura was screaming at them to stop, but it was too late now. As he was thrown over the table on his back, his wings let him know their protest with sharp blasts of pain that were almost as bad as the fist smashing into his face, and he couldn't even get his mind together enough to try and get away from them. When the sound of a whistle blasted through the bar, the beating stopped, and he gasped as he was dropped to the table, his head lolling off the side.

"Outside, all of you." Jim blinked wearily at the oddly familiar voice, but his head hurt too damn much to process it. "_Now_."

"Yes, sir!" Jim laid on the table as the bar emptied around him, just trying to will his head to stop spinning. After a few seconds, he tilted his head back to try and view his rescuer, and said the first dumb thing that came to mind, something about whistling. He could barely make the man out, it was too dark and his head hurt too much, but he could see the man's head tilt after he spoke.

"_Jim_?" Jim's eyes widened, and he rolled himself onto his front, his heart lodged in his throat.

"_Dad_?"

The next twenty minutes passed in a flash. Chris helped him to his feet, and hustled him off to the bathroom while he approached Nelson; Jim stood in the bathroom staring at the mirror for what seemed like a lifetime. He was really here. It had been over a year and a half since he had seen Chris in person, and he...never thought their reunion would be like this. Jim ached all over, and a small part of him wondered if he could sneak out without his dad noticing. Jim snorted and shook his head. No, he had already fucked things up enough, and he- he wanted to talk to his dad. It's not like he had any other plans. Splashing some water on his face and belatedly realizing that he should plug his bloody nose, he staggered back out to hear Nelson saying the words "Papa Bear" to Chris, and felt a smile inch onto his battered face. After falling into the first chair he reached, Chris followed into the seat across from him, and Jim tried to ignore the obvious concern etching itself into his dad's features. Nelson gave him his vodka, and he kicked back half it in one go as the older man began to speak. As the man who had raised him spoke, Jim inwardly winced as he responded to everything with monosyllabic answers and attitude. Chris didn't deserve this, he wasn't angry at the man, but he couldn't make his mouth form the words he really wanted to say; that he was sorry, that he missed him, that he wanted to come home- The words "...better with your life?" came out of the man's mouth, and Jim felt like a hovercar had smashed into him. Chris had never sat down and talked to him like this before regarding his future, generally trusting him to figure it out himself. Things seemed to be working so well, after all; why would Dad be saying anything? Jim snorted inwardly, and barely restrained himself from shaking his head. When Starfleet was mentioned shortly thereafter, the remains of his verbal filters fell apart, and he barked out a harsh laugh before delivering a snarling reply that made his dad's face battle for control. Hell, Chris had almost admonished him for his cursing, and Jim disregarded the odd feeling in his gut that wished he _had._

"...You could really do something special in Starfleet, if you wanted to." Jim bit back a reply he knew he would regret, and let his face go blank.

"We done?" Jim watched as Chris rose to his feet, an odd smile on his face that made his own gut clench with guilt.

"I'm done," Chris said softly, and Jim was no longer able to keep the emotion off his face, a burst of something that made him want to break down on the spot; Jim swallowed heavily and tried not to think. The older man's hand fell on his shoulder, and Jim turned his head to look at it. "The shuttle for San Francisco leaves tomorrow at eight-hundred, I'll be on it." Chris paused for a moment, and Jim forced himself to not look up. "Please don't disappear for so long again, Jim. You really are going to make my hair go grey if you keep this up." Jim closed his eyes as Chris squeezed his shoulder, and walked away. When the sound of his steps ceased, Jim raised his head and looked towards the door, meeting his dad's eyes. "I know you can do better, son." Jim didn't trust himself to speak, and Chris turned and left the bar.

Jim didn't know how long he sat there staring at the door, his hands clenched around the second glass of vodka so tightly that his knuckles ached; only when Nelson came over and patted the table in front of him did he snap out of it. Jim turned his head and looked at the long-haired man, his red braids falling to the sides of his neck as he sat down in the seat his dad had recently vacated. Jim took a sip out of his glass, but he found that he didn't feel like drinking anymore.

"You have yourself one hell of a father, Jim-boy." Nelson's voice was gravellier than usual, and Jim opened his mouth, but Nelson did a sideways chopping motion with his hand and shook his head. "I've seen people come in and out of here for decades, and it's the rare person that can walk away when all they want to do is drag you with them." Jim blinked, and the old man sighed. "All the Captain wanted to do at his heart was to take you back home, Jim. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice; but he did something that took a lot of strength instead." Jim squinted at the man, his head clouded with equal parts alcohol and emotion.

"What are you going on about?" Nelson grinned and adjusted his bandanna as he got to his feet.

"It's a hard thing, being a parent; instead of trying to protect you from yourself, which is the easy path to choose, he's letting you decide." Jim felt his eyes widen, and Nelson gave him a wry smile as he took the half-empty tumbler of vodka away from Jim's loose fingers. "Don't waste this chance, kid. Whatever he told you, think about it. Chances are he's right."

Jim ended up outside the bar, leaning against his bike and staring down the road; the half-ripened fields surrounding the bar had never seemed so forbidding to him before as they stretched into the horizon. Nelson was a nosy son of a bitch. Jim took mental stock of his level of sobriety and decided to walk a bit; he kicked up the stand on the bike and set off down the road towards his mom's house, ignoring the throbbing that was setting in all over his body. The air was cool against his face as he walked, the bike heavy in his hands; after about ten minutes of walking, he mounted the bike and sped towards the farmhouse. As the building came into view, Jim found himself wondering where Chris was staying. He assumed that there was housing near the shipyards, but he had never cared enough to pay attention. The tall silver building was as ugly and uninviting as ever, and Jim dismounted gracelessly and stumbled into the house, flipping on the old light switches and avoiding the family room as he headed upstairs to grab a shower. His old room was a necropolis to a life that felt alien to him now, with dust covered walls and floors, the worn sheets on his old bed and a path from the bed to the door to the bathroom the only disturbance to the dead scene. Shucking his shirt, he eased himself out of the harness, hissing as his compressed wings were exposed to the air, causing the bruises he couldn't see, but were most definitely there to throb. The warm water helped, but his tiny shower couldn't quite accommodate his body and his wings together, so he decided to let the water run over his wings instead, leaving his pants and shoes on. He could clean himself up later. Shaking his wings as much as he could in the small area, Jim grabbed a towel and dried what he could reach, before dripping back into the bedroom and throwing the towel behind him as he settled onto the corner of the bed, allowing his body to sag. Starfleet. Dad had brought it up offhandedly years ago when he was deciding what to do when they left the Yorktown, but had never pressed the point. Maybe things would have turned out better if he had. Jim gave a dry chuckle and flopped on his stomach, moving his wings languidly. As a Kirk, everyone assumed when he was a little kid that he would follow in his parent's footsteps, leading to most of the presents from anyone who bothered, excepting his mother, being toy starships, posters, and the like. The posters had been ignored, and the toy ships dissected and forgotten. He had had no use for toys when he was young; not when he had been doing chores for Frank most of the day. Jim looked around the dusty room blankly, before slapping his palms on his thighs and rising to his feet. He needed to think, and he sure as hell wasn't going to do it here. Jim found himself thankful for the tall narrow shape the farmhouse had as he scaled several more flights of stairs before easing himself through the roof access hatch; it was perfect for take-offs. The night sky was overcast, the stars only visible at random intervals as the clouds passed overhead, and Jim allowed his wings to fully unfurl as he rose to his feet and balanced himself on the slanted roof. It was risky to go for a flight like this, the farm was kilometers away from the old quarry, and a vehicle could pass by and see him at any time. Jim couldn't bring himself to care. Flapping his wings to shake the last bit of water off, he broke into a run, leaping off the roof and falling for a moment before catching the wind, soaring up into the cool night air. A few minutes flying east had him over the old quarry, and with a sharp banking turn, he dove into the stratified artificial canyon, scanning the area to make sure there were no kids around. The rusting hulk of _that_ car still lay at the bottom, although it was missing a few pieces. It had become a test for bored stupid kids to dare each other with, the type of dare that usually included the word 'chicken' somewhere in the discussion; Jim thought that his act of rebellion leading to more (if calmer) acts from the younger generation was possibly the funniest thing ever. Chris probably wouldn't think so, at least not verbally. John would call the lot of them idiots, and he would be right.

"That's what he did. He dared me," Jim mumbled as he coasted lazily in wide ovals halfway down the quarry sides, occasionally flying straight into the wall and using his legs to kick off and reverse in the other direction. Of all the things to say after going almost two years without speaking face to face, Chris had told him he could do better. Jim snorted and arced into a corkscrew, spiralling down towards the quarry floor, grumbling to himself.

"What the hell does he know? He hasn't been around, he doesn't know what I've been through-" Jim's eyes widened reflexively, and his griping stuttered to a halt as he landed near the car wreckage, slipping to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest and his wings around him like a cocoon. Of course he didn't know. How could he blame his dad when it was his own damn fault that their relationship had crumbled so quickly? He wouldn't go home, he wouldn't tell the man anything even when he asked; and now he tries to blame his woes on Chris? Jim bit back a choking laugh that a sob to his ears, and let his head fall into his folded arms. He was so fucking pathetic. He had become _that guy_, the kind that he had always known would never get anywhere in life, who would drink too much and get into trouble; Chris had sacrificed everything for him, John too had also done more than he could ever hope to compensate for, and he had repaid them by giving them both the metaphorical finger and meticulously setting about wasting the chances he had been given through their hard work. Nelson had said that Chris had wanted to just drag him out of there, but instead had given him a choice. Jim took a deep breath and cracked his wings open so he could look at the sky. Chris had always let him choose, had always had faith in his intelligence, even after the clusterfuck the last year or so had become. Jim recalled the look on his dad's face from an hour ago, the restrained curls greyer than ever, those lapis blue eyes framed by those amazing laugh lines that were not laughing at all as they looked upon the lost mess of his son. Chris didn't tell him to do better, he _knew_ Jim could do better. He looked up at the sky just in time to see the moon appear from behind the clouds, he watched it for what felt like an eternity as he let his dad's words bounce around his brain. As the cloud cover obscured his view, Jim rose to his feet, brushing off his rear and legs. He was tired of being _that guy;_ and although he didn't have the faintest idea why Chris still had any faith in him, the realization that he wanted to earn the right to that faith came swiftly and without remorse. There was nothing for him here. His mother had let him down, had lied to him over and over again, and was probably doing everything she could to stay in space so she didn't have to face him. Jim loved his mother, but he didn't think he would ever trust her again. Chris had done none of these things, had maintained his faith in his wayward son regardless of the dumb shit he pulled, and yet Jim had ignored him in favor of watching the tattered remains of his relationship with his mother steadily unravel. His priorities were seriously skewed.

"I'll do it." Starfleet had turned out people like his dad, John, and his father, which easily overshadowed the fact that it had also turned out his mother, for better or worse, and idiots like that Stipe. All three men had commanded starships, and had done a fine job at it. Jim turned and looked at the car, his father's car, twisted into a nearly unrecognizable mass of twisted metal. His father didn't believe in the no-win scenario, if his dad's account was to be trusted. That was a foregone conclusion, and it sounded like a damn good policy for the future. Jim broke into a run, flaring his wings and feeling for the currents; he was aloft in seconds, and he shot out of the quarry like a cannonball. He _would_ earn the right to claim his dad's belief in him.

* * *

Jim stopped by the farmhouse just long enough to close the roof hatch and dress back into his harness and filthy shirt. Putting on his jacket, he exited the house without looking back, mounting his motorcycle and setting off towards the shipyard. There was a small hill that provided a decent view of the entire facility, and he brought his bike to a stop at the top of it, hitting the kickstand and dismounting. The construction lights surrounding the ship pulsed with a golden light, and for the first time since he came here after the fight with his mother, Jim allowed himself to examine the ship, his dad's ship. Three more years. That's how long Chris would wait for his new command. Jim would be twenty-five when the Enterprise was done. If he wanted to be graduated before her maiden voyage, he would have to pull out all the stops and not screw around. Jim allowed his bruised face to fall into a light smirk. He could do this. He would do this. Jim sat on the hillside as the night sky lightened with the oncoming dawn, allowing himself to doze as the growing heat in the air brought warmth to his cheeks. Getting to his feet, he glanced at the time on the bike's clock. It was seven fifty-five. Chris had said oh-eight-hundred. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he started the bike and sped towards the shipyard gates, slowing down as he entered the massive facility and weaved through the crowds of crew and machines towards the shuttlepads. Jim could see Chris in the distance, appearing to be bidding farewell to that commander who he had sometimes chatted up at the bar and turning towards the shuttle doors. As he approached, the older man turned around and watched him as he brought his bike to a halt. When a passing enlisted man complimented it, he didn't skip a beat as he threw the keys to the flabbergasted man and walked up to his dad on the boarding ramp, stopping a step beyond him before pivoting on his heel. He met his dad's eyes in silence, before tilting his head up to look at the Enterprise.

"She's beautiful." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chris mirroring his gaze.

"That she is." The older man's voice was soft with something that he might call love, and Jim couldn't help the jaw-cracking smile that split his face.

"Y'know, I might want to see the inside of her some time; get a proper tour from its Captain." Chris met his eyes, his throat swallowing reflexively; the emotion that Jim could see in his eyes was even more amazing than the look he had gifted to the Enterprise, and Jim thought his head would break in half if he smiled any wider. He tilted his head to the side and opened his mouth.

"The command track is usually four years, right?" Chris blinked and nodded instantly, and he let his smile twist into a cocky smirk. "I'll do it in three." Before his dad could say anything, Jim turned back around and entered the waiting shuttle, the smirk softening into a sweeter smile that probably didn't fit the battered state of his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care. After that cocky speech to Chris, the first thing Jim was not expecting to do was bash his head into a support beam as he entered the shuttle, the action chasing the boyish grin off his face. Blinking back the throbbing pain that sat up and said hello, he saluted to the assholes who had inadvertently got him on this shuttle before falling into the first empty seat he found. Cadet Uhura was sitting a few seats away, and he couldn't resist commenting.

"Never did get that first name." The lovely woman gave a bemused smile without looking at him, and Jim chuckled inwardly as he tried to get comfortable. The seats had a tiny bit of leeway for unusually shaped humanoids, but it wasn't quite enough; he played with the straps and shifted in his seat as a sudden clamor made him look up to see a scruffy guy being hustled out of the bathroom by a harried-looking Ensign. After a short exchange between the two that just made Jim feel like he needed a drink, the man fell into the only other empty seat, which just happened to be next to him.

"I may throw up on you." Jim had heard worse introductions. As he and _Leonard_ talked (talk about an old-fashioned name, he was going to have to do something about that) while Chris steered the shuttle back to San Francisco, he decided that Starfleet just might work out if there were other interesting people like the good Doctor. Especially if they carried flasks with them.

* * *

"State your name, species, place of birth, and citizenship for the record." The man behind the desk in the processing building looked bored, but his hands were perched on his console ready to input the data he had asked for. Jim opened his mouth and shut it. Name. There was lies of omission, and lies to local police forces, but Starfleet was a whole different animal. His dad had just hauled him out of almost two years of nothing but travel and misdemeanors by simply getting him to admit the truth, as much as he had wanted to ignore it; all that crap was on his record as a Kirk, but it was only a matter of time before his two profiles were completely linked in the system. Important things such as his aptitude test scores and allergies had been maintained under both names, but Jim knew they did a basic DNA scan as part of the entrance procedures to verify that you were who you said you were, and that would immediately bring up the Kirk name from his original scans as a child. If he piped up with the Pike name, the whole damn school would look at Chris as the loser who couldn't control his son, and if he couldn't control his son, how in the hell can he captain the flagship? No way in hell was Jim going to allow that to happen. The Admiralty would know either way, of course, but they would have no reason to publicly announce it. The choice was clear.

"James Tiberius Kirk, Human, USS Kelvin, Medical Shuttle 37. Citizen of the United States, Earth." The Lieutenant's head shot up, and conversation stuttered to a halt around him. When no one spoke and everyone continued to simply stare at him, Jim forced back his irritation and spoke again. "Is there a problem, sir?" The officer blinked before awareness dawned, and Jim watched in bemusement as an embarrassed flush appeared on the man's cheeks.

"No, no problem. I need your thumbprint for verification, Mr. Kirk." Jim nodded and pressed his thumb to the PADD; he could see his file pop up on the man's screen and confirm his statement. "You were recruited by Captain Pike, correct?"

"Yes, sir." The lieutenant nodded absently as he examined the information, and Jim knew when he read his aptitude test results, as the man's eyes widened almost comically before he regained his composure.

"It appears that everything is in order, Mr. Kirk." The lieutenant rose to his feet, and Jim followed suit. "Let me be the first to welcome you to Starfleet." Jim clasped the man's extended hand and gave it a firm squeeze before releasing it, letting his arm fall back to his side. "Proceed to the quartermaster to continue your entrance processing." Jim squared his shoulders, but did not salute.

"Thank you, sir." Jim could feel many of the surrounding staff's eyes on him, but it was nothing he hadn't experienced before. He headed towards the indicated location, and was only stopped once by a large boisterous looking woman with Commodore's stripes who tried to drum what his focus of study was going to be while at the academy out of him. He told her that he was planning on the command track, leading to a slap on the back (no moment of hesitation, and Jim knew his wings were going to hate him for _weeks_ after all this abuse) and a "of course you are!" out of the woman before he was hustled into the quartermaster's area, who administered the basic DNA test for proof of identity (which did not reveal the x-gene; as it was considered a lost cause, scanning for it was a waste of time,) and then promptly told him he was getting a roommate. _Oh hell no_. "I have somewhere to stay off campus, sir." The chief petty officer frowned.

"Regulations stipulate for all first year cadets to remain in on-campus housing, Cadet." Jim knew there was exceptions to the rule, he just had to think of one-

"Hey there, big man, haven't seen you in awhile." Jim's head swiveled around at the voice, a voice he knew all too well. John gave him a smile, but Jim almost cringed when it was immediately followed up with a look that promised that they would have words later. The man processing him was already on his feet saluting.

"Admiral." John nodded at the man's salute and looked down at Jim again, a considering look on his face. Jim moved his hand subtly to block his mouth from the quartermaster and mouthed 'Kirk' at the older man, who blinked in understanding.

"Is there any problems processing Cadet Kirk, Chief Petty Officer?" John met the man's eyes, and Jim watched him glance down at his console again.

"I was attempting to assign him quarters, sir, as per standard guidelines, but he has indicated his desire to live off-campus." The man looked a bit irritated, but Jim knew that John understood his reasoning.

"That is a regulation with many exceptions, Chief Petty Officer, I do not see any reason why you couldn't comply with his request." Jim bit back a smile when the quartermaster's shock at an admiral stepping up for a new recruit was plain, before his shock transformed into an expression Jim did not recognize. The man poked at his console for a minute before looking up at the two of them.

"Right you are, sir. Taking into consideration that he is older than the average cadet, I believe it would be permissible to do so in this case." The officer met Jim's eyes. "You are aware that this means that you are forfeiting some standard supports given to on-campus residents, including the free meals at the mess." Jim nodded, and the man took out a basic model PADD and inputted some data into it before passing it to him. "Your PADD contains the information for everything you need to finish before you are allowed to register for classes. As your aptitude scores are still valid, you are exempt from from the primary entrance examinations. You will be required to complete the specialty placement tests should you choose to register for certain courses. You will also need to schedule and complete a full physical examination at Starfleet Medical within the next week-" Jim suddenly felt like bashing his head into the table in front of him. Of course they would require a goddamned physical. Any military or spacefaring organization would require it, and he knew he was an idiot for completely forgetting about it. A quick glance behind him showed John had not forgotten; the older man's lips were pressed together and his expression was neutral but thoughtful. He had decisions to make.

Jim's interview with the Chief Petty Officer came to a close, and he was directed to head to a corridor with small rooms to be sized and kitted out with his uniform. John followed him to the door of the designated room, and the two looked at each other silently for a long moment.

"You want to continue keeping certain things under wraps, correct?" John's face was serious, and Jim gave a deep sigh before responding.

"I would prefer it, sir." John's somber expression twisted after the word 'sir' came out of Jim's mouth, and the Admiral's eyes softened.

"I'm going to have to get used to that in public, won't I?" John patted Jim on the shoulder and motioned to the door with a bob of his head. "I'm going to think about the physical situation, but for now, just finish with the things you need to complete today, and we will talk later. I'm not supposed to be here anyhow, I'm running rather late for a meeting." John smirked and stepped back. "I better clear out before your old man gets here, I don't want to steal his thunder." Jim chuckled.

"Thunder?" Jim muttered, and John turned his head back towards Jim as he proceeded back to the exit, a amused little smile in place.

"You have no idea." Jim blinked as John disappeared from view, and he turned and entered the room, sitting down on a bench against the wall. A old enlisted man came in a few minutes later, got Jim to his feet and immediately set about measuring and fussing about. After a minute, he told Jim to wait as he left and came back, thrusting a package with several pairs of red pants into his hands.

"We need to fabricate the rest of your uniform, so come back tomorrow for your shirts and uniform jackets." Jim squeezed the package of pants and nodded absently.

"Yes, sir." He could see the man head out the door, but he didn't feel like moving. He still ached from yesterday's fight, he may be giving up his privacy in a matter of days, and he was back in school. Well, the school part wasn't so bad, but Starfleet? Jim heard the door slide closed, and he looked up to see Chris walking in. "Hi, Dad." As he let his head fall to his dad's shoulder as they talked, he fought back tears at the sheer relief he felt at being able to just relax with another person again like this. Never again; two years of travelling and meeting people had made him feel more isolated than ever, and the guilt Jim felt bubbling in the back of his gut soothed itself as the older man's calm voice reverberated through him. Chris's hand was warm enough that he could feel it on his wings even through the harness; his shoulder comfortable enough that he felt his mind drifting. Jim didn't even stir when Chris flicked him in the cheek and called him a freeloader after asking if he could stay with him.

* * *

_Bones._ Jim didn't want to keep calling the man McCoy, and Leonard was too much of a mouthful. Jim knew about the old term for doctors, but he was thinking more on the lines of the man's sense of humor. Jim was relieved that the Southern doctor seemed to care less about Jim's appearance, and hadn't asked any invasive questions...and he cleaned up nice. Jim barely recognized him when they met after Jim had returned and picked up the rest of his uniform. As they walked around campus, he got good-naturedly griped at about everything the man could think of, from Starfleet to what he had to eat that morning. At least Jim thought it was mostly good-natured. He could be completely misreading the older man's body language, but there was a slight softness in his eyes despite whatever he was bitching about that put Jim at ease. However, it was clear almost everyone else was quickly forming the opinion that the man was an irredeemable grouch, if the reaction of the nurse who came to greet him at Starfleet Medical was anything to go by. That took talent for only being here for less than twenty-four hours. Jim grudgingly split off from Bones shortly before sixteen hundred and headed to Chris's office. They had many things to discuss, but the issue of the required physical was front and center. Everything else could wait. Jim entered the office and greeted Yeoman Colt, who he remembered had chosen to leave the Yorktown with his dad to attend Academy classes so she could become an officer. She worked part-time as Chris's secretary, and could be trusted to keep her silence when needed.

"Your father is waiting for you, Cadet." Colt gave him a friendly smile, and Jim returned it.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Jim entered the inner office and saluted, and met both Chris and John's eyes one after the other. John's eyebrows lifted.

"Look at you, Jimmy. You cut quite the dashing figure in the reds." John smirked, and Chris waved to the chair in front of his desk.

"Go ahead and sit down, Jim, we have things to discuss." Jim sat down, and both of the older men followed suit. "You have to do your entrance physical within the week. As you have made it clear you want to continue on as you have been for now, we need to figure out how to get you past the physical without it being mentioned." Chris loosely folded his arms and leaned forward on his desk. "Otherwise, you give up the game now. Before, it wasn't a big deal; as you were a citizen and a dependant, Phillip never questioned me clearing you back on the Yorktown, as long as you were up to date on vaccinations and whatnot. He assumed it was because you were sensitive about medical examinations." He sighed, and Jim straightened in his seat. "I don't think I can do that anymore, Jim. It's one thing when you are a citizen, but it's another thing-"

"When I'm actually in Starfleet. No, I know that won't work, and I know you were risking censure by subverting the system before. It would be a lot more than that if you did it now." Jim met his dad's eyes; the older man gave a slight nod. "I honestly don't know, Dad. I mean, I know I'm allowed to have the physical completely privately if I request it, unlike the assembly line they usually do for new cadets. Bones got his done earlier along with a handful of other new cadets, the doctor asked me if I wanted mine done then, but I bowed out with some bullshit excuse." Chris gave Jim a strange look.

"Bones?" Jim froze, then rolled his eyes at himself.

"Sorry, Doctor McCoy. Met him on the shuttle yesterday. He's an interesting guy once you get past the never-ending snark." Jim chuckled, and Chris nodded with a small smile. Jim looked to John, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout their exchange. The Admiral was clearly in thought, and Chris also turned to look at the older man.

"You look like you might have something up your sleeve, John." John did a slow blink before his eyes focused, and settled back in his seat, giving a slight tilt of the head to his friend.

"I do have an idea. It's also the only way I see this working, if he is willing to do it." John looked at Jim, his expression serious. "If he isn't, you are going to have give it up." Jim felt a spike of cold through his chest, but managed to keep his voice calm.

"He?" Chris said nothing, but it was clear in his expression that his question was the same. John looked between the two before opening his mouth.

"You remember my old CMO, Doctor Phlox?" Jim nodded slowly.

"Denobulan, with a very cool voice and a generally bubbly personality. Real friendly guy." Jim wasn't sure where this was going, but it was clear Chris did, as he watched his dad's eyes widen as he let himself fall back away from his desk.

"If I am thinking along the same lines as you, it's the perfect plan; but, will he do it? Phlox loves nothing more than to study everything he gets his hands on, but alteration or omission on formal records...well, you know him better than I do." Chris was looking at John, who hummed. Jim looked between the two men, the coldness in his chest twisting ominously.

"I'm not following," Jim said, and John turned back to him.

"He's not a member of Starfleet, Jimmy; he's part of the Interspecies Medical Exchange. However, he's also served on a Federation starship, which gives him some privileges that others in his place would not have, but without a lot of the political bullshit. One of those is doing official medical screenings, hell, he's done mine for years. Some cadets who are uncomfortable with humans or some other species go to him as well; due to the cultural sensitivity regs, it's perfectly admissible as long as the staff is available." John reached out and clasped Jim's shoulder, and Jim realized with a start that he was shaking. "I know it isn't ideal, Jimmy, but I think this is your only shot." Chris gave Jim a reassuring smile, which Jim tried to return with less than desired success. They would have to tell another person. True, the Denobulan wouldn't be looking at him from the same perspective and biases as a human doctor would, but still-

"Jim, I know you don't like this. We are going to have to tell him and hope he goes along with it after the fact." Chris looked at him and paused, getting to his feet and walking around the table. Jim jumped when the older man patted his cheek. "Jim, calm down. You're hyperventilating." John squeezed his shoulder again, and Jim's eyes fell shut as he forced himself to take slow, deep breaths. He could do this, there was no reason for him to be panicking- "It's your call, Jim." Jim reopened his eyes and looked at both his dad and John, doing his best to will his heart to stop pounding. There were no other options.

"Yeah, let's do it."

* * *

"May we come in, Doctor?" John was all smiles as the three of them entered the Denobulan's office in Starfleet Medical, the door shutting behind them. Doctor Phlox got to his feet and greeted them all with a smile (small, by Denobulan standards.)

"Most certainly, Admiral; what can I do for you?" Phlox looked at Chris and nodded in greeting, before moving his gaze to Jim. "Well well, the talk of much of the campus. Good to see you again, Mr. Pike-" The Denobulan's smile grew, and Jim could no longer resist a smile of his own. "-or is it Mr. Kirk? I find myself typically good at remembering such things, but perhaps I am mistaken?" Chris and John laughed simultaneously, and Jim rolled his eyes at their antics.

"Mr. Kirk is correct, sir." The doctor had a honest-to-God _twinkle_ in his eyes that made Jim feel much calmer than he had only minutes earlier, and he felt the muscles in his shoulders loosen a bit. Phlox motioned to the two chairs in his office, and Jim found himself pushed into one by Chris. John leaned on the doctor's desk, next to where its owner had also perched himself.

"We need a favor, Doctor. A big favor." Phlox locked gazes with his former commanding officer.

"Oh? Might I make a guess that it involves the new cadet Captain Pike just manhandled into a seat?" Jim resisted the urge to squirm in his seat like a kid as Phlox focused on him, and John snorted.

"That would be the favor. He needs his entrance physical." Phlox gave John a quizzical look.

"I would be happy to administer it, Admiral; but I sense your favor isn't exactly that," Phlox said, his voice lilting pleasantly as he spoke. Chris shook his head.

"It isn't." Phlox nodded absently, and turned to John.

"Say it plainly, Admiral."

"We would like you to leave something off his medical report." Phlox looked at John without speaking, before motioning to the door behind his desk.

"Come to my exam room, we can discuss it further in there." Jim got to his feet, and they entered the small exam room. Phlox glanced at Jim, who was looking around at the equipment. "Before you ask, Cadet Kirk, these private rooms are typically used for research projects, but I am permitted to use them at my leisure for other purposes. Admiral Archer usually recieves his physicals in here, for example. Allows for more conversation without disturbing other patients." The Denobulan approached Jim and smiled. "Well, I suppose you better tell me while it's off the record what I'm not supposed to say, hm?" Jim almost choked on his own saliva as the cold fear roared back into existence. He needed to sit down. Phlox's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Your reaction suggests that you are not comfortable in explaining, but I will need to know in order to proceed." Jim clenched his fists and nodded.

"Sorry, it isn't something that I announce. There are only three other people who know about this." His voice was shaking as he stepped away from the doctor and unzipped his jacket, throwing it onto the bed. Phlox gave him an interested look.

"I surmise by the presence of both the Admiral and the Captain that they are two of the aforementioned three, who is the other?" Jim grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

"My mother," Jim mumbled though the fabric.

"I see." Phlox was looking at his torso, and Jim threw the shirt on the bed before he lost his nerve. "You appear to be wearing a garment constructed out of high-quality bio-plast. Interesting." Jim looked at his Dad, who gave him a soft smile.

"Go ahead, Jim." Jim ran his finger under the joining seam that kept the harness together, and flexed his wings a tiny bit to force the bond to separate. The harness fell away from his upper back, and he pulled the lower end out of his pants and tossed the harness to join the rest of his clothing. His wings were tucked into his pants, the ends running down the legs; he forced his wings to open, freeing the ends and unfurling them in front of the smiling doctor. Phlox approached, and circled around to view them from behind.

"How utterly fascinating! There are several humanoid species with vestigial wings, but none known with a completely formed set. May I?" Jim twisted to look at the Denobulan, who was holding a hand near his left wing.

"Sure." Jim was unable to restrain a shudder as the doctor ran his fingers through the feathers, lifting them slightly to inspect underneath them. When the doctor started running his fingers down the seams where his wings joined his back, Jim was forced to bite his lower lip to distract him from the sensation, and knew his face was turning red. Chris poorly suppressed a chuckle before coming to his aid.

"Err...Doctor, Jim's back is rather sensitive; might I suggest less physical examination methods instead?" Jim let out a small sigh of relief as Phlox shrugged and walked back around to face him.

"Very well then, although there are times where there is nothing better than tactile inspection. However, I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." Phlox had clearly noted his reaction, and Jim fought to quell the blush that he could still feel warm on his cheeks. Phlox shooed him to the biobed, and he sat down as the Denobulan ran his tricorder over him, looking between the biobed's information screen and the small device. "Your body is well adapted for flight, Mr. Kirk. Such over-sweeping modifications on the human body point to only two conclusions I can make from the facts as presented. You are either heavily genetically modified, or that your- x-gene, I believe it is called, is active." Phlox met his eyes, and Jim nodded.

"The latter." As soon as the words left his mouth, the doctor's face split into a wide grin, and he immediately set about scanning Jim again, his excitement plain.

"First in several hundred years, if my research into the gene is accurate. Do you have a theory as to why yours is active versus any of the other six billion of so that carry the inactive form of the gene?" Phlox was still looking at Jim, but it was Chris who responded.

"We believe it has to do with the circumstances surrounding his birth." Both Jim and John nodded in agreement, and the doctor pursed his lips and tilted his head absently from side to side.

"That is definitely an idea with considerable merit, Captain. I reviewed some of the surviving scans from the Kelvin's sensors, and there were completely unknown types of radiation and other forces at work that day. But that investigation is for a later time." Lowering his tricorder, he stepped away from Jim and centered his gaze on all three humans in the room. "You are in excellent health, Cadet. I assume the point you would like me to leave off the report is his wings?" John gave a sharp nod, and Phlox faced Jim again. "I agree, under one condition." Jim opened his mouth first.

"Name it." The doctor lifted a PADD from a dock next to the biobed.

"I will leave the rest of your differences unchanged in the report. I will just...omit the mention of the wings." Phlox began entering data into the device, and Jim furrowed his brow.

"The other things will definitely stand out, though." The Denobulan nodded without looking up, and Jim glanced over at Chris and John.

"Don't worry, Cadet; I will list myself as your primary physician. As long as you don't end up here when I'm not around, no one will have reason to access your medical records." Phlox looked up from his PADD. "I must confess to being curious as to why you conceal them in the first place, Mr. Kirk. You are an aesthetically pleasing individual in excellent health, your wings are of good conformity and display a striking color scheme, and I am aware that many humans attribute positive emotions towards winged humanoids in various cultures throughout this planet." Jim could do little more than boggle at the sing-songing Denobulan, luckily, his dad came to the rescue.

"I wanted him to have as normal of a childhood as we could manage. Being in the public eye as the only one with an active x-gene would have precluded that entirely." Chris spoke with a firmness that brooked no argument, and Phlox's face crinkled up in thought before he nodded.

"Being different from one's peers is always difficult; it is a trait I have seen exhibited in every culture I have come across. You will have to face this someday, Cadet Kirk, and it will probably not be too far from now. Maintaining your privacy as a cadet is a relatively simple matter, provided you don't get entangled in any major catastrophes. Keeping your secret onboard a starship is an entirely different ideal, one I believe you will find quickly unfeasible." Phlox placed his PADD back on its dock and looked directly at Jim, the honesty in his face making Jim's stomach roll. He knew that, but he didn't want to think about it yet. Maybe in a few years; if he could get on a starship and away from Earth before he had to give it up, Starfleet wouldn't bother making a fuss about it? Yeah, in a dream world. He got to his feet with a snort, prompting John to look askance at him. Jim shook his head.

"Nothing, just thinking." John nodded before gesturing to the doctor.

"He has a point, Jimmy. Just keep that in mind." Chris's eyes showed his agreement, and Jim looked between the two before nodding.

"I'm sorry for asking this of you guys, I mean, after what I pulled, I don't think I even have the right-" Jim trailed off as his dad set a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Phlox was quietly observing the exchange with a smile, before he strode to the door back to his office and motioned for them to follow. Chris helped his son back into the harness, and after making sure everything was in place, the three men followed the Denobulan out of the room. Jim watched as the doctor sat on the edge of his desk, looking at them with a serious expression that made him worry. John and Chris exchanged a look just as Phlox opened his mouth.

"What do you three think about having Chinese for lunch?"

* * *

The required introductory classes were mostly review for Jim, between his experiences from living on the Yorktown and college; it was nearing the end of the summer term before he even noticed, and he had settled in better than he thought he would. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected at first, but now that he _had_ settled in, he knew he could make this work. He and Chris were talking like they had always used to, with fond affection with just a smidgen of abrasion that made things interesting; Jim hadn't told him everything from his travels, but he had clarified a few of the fights on his record. When Chris had asked why he had started in the first place, however, he had found himself changing the subject. He was doing just fine keeping busy.

Busy bothering Bones, that is. Jim wandered into the mess, scanning the room for the cleanly-parted head of the older man as he smiled and greeted everyone he recognized as he zeroed in on his prey, swooping down and throwing himself into the chair opposite.

"So, I was talking with Professor Chapin, and he said that avoiding socialization by being brusque and foul mannered is a defense mechanism!" Jim leaned forward and propped his chin on his hands, staring at the man glaring at his lunch. "What do you think about that, Bones? I mean, I don't know anyone like that, but you never know-" Bones gave a disgruntled sigh and slammed his fork onto the mostly empty plate.

"Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Someday, you are going to come in here like a sane person, and I'm going to have a goddamned heart attack. And considering how rare that is these days, that would be one for the books." Bones was glaring at him now, and Jim broke into a brilliant grin as he leaned over a bit further and pinched a noodle off of the now abandoned plate, leading Bones to try and smack his hand in retribution. "Did you eat this morning?" Jim nodded solemnly, and the other man grabbed his fork and quickly finished the last few bites of his meal. "If you lived on campus like every other new cadet, you'd be able to eat here for free, you know." Jim shrugged, and Bones rolled his eyes as he pushed back from the table. "Let's get out of here." Following Bones out the door, Jim winked at Uhura as she entered, earning him a huff and an eyeroll as she strode by. He cackled and poked his friend in the shoulder.

"You know, between you and Uhura, I think your eyes are going to just roll out of your heads someday." Bones peeked over his shoulder at Jim, rolling his eyes again, and Jim just raised an eyebrow.

"You make it too easy, Jim." The summer sun was muted by the same marine layer obscuring the bay, but it was still too warm for Jim's taste. He could handle the heat, but the humidity- Jim felt the damp feathers clinging to his back, and he pursed his lips involuntarily at a rush of relief that his feathers didn't have any special smell to them. Sweaty Jim was the same as any other sweaty guy, thank god. The bio-plast breathed, but it was still restricting airflow; there was nothing that could be done about it.

"Jim? You alright?" Jim jumped at Bones' voice, and looked up to see that the man had stopped walking and had turned to face him. Jim shook his head.

"I'm fine. Just not used to the humidity." A hand was pressed to his forehead before he could blink, and Jim stumbled back in shock. "What was that for?" Bones snorted and started walking again, leaving him to catch up. "Well?"

"You need to remember to drink plenty of fluids and stay indoors, if you can manage it. You're already too warm, and we've only been out a few minutes." The dormitories for the medical students were coming into view, and Bones tilted his head in their direction. "Let's get you inside for a bit." Jim blinked at the older man as he swiped his ID to open the front door to the building, following him inside before the door closed. He was still trying to figure out if he had gained a friend or a nursemaid with Bones, with all the haranguing the man seemed to do in regards to his health. Jim watched as he repeated the same motion with the ID at his dorm room door, and Jim realized with a tired smile that he didn't care.

Jim woke to the feeling of something tapping his forehead, and he pried open his eyes to see Bones leaning over him, the man's finger prodding at his forehead. He must have dozed off on his sofa. "Whaazzgoin on?" The hand withdrew, and Jim wrestled his body into a sitting position, not quite managing to hide the twinges of pain from falling asleep in a uncomfortable position. Bones sat down on the sofa next to him, close enough to feel his body heat, but not touching.

"I'm assuming here, but I have a suspicion that you require a pillow that is especially supportive of your head and neck when you sleep; you looked like an old man there." It was true, if he was sleeping on his back in his harness, and Jim grumbled an affirmative. "In that case, I don't think my rinky-dink sofa's cushions count, kid." Bones gave him a tiny smirk as he got to his feet and walked to the drink dispenser. "You want something?"

"Water is fine, thanks." Jim got to his feet, stretching and rolling his back and neck as far as he could manage; after his neck made a rather spectacular cracking noise, the ache subsided. "Sorry 'bout falling asleep on you." Bones handed over the glass of water and shrugged.

"One of the quietest visits I've had from you," Bones said, and Jim shot him a pout. "Don't even start." Finishing his water with a slight exhale, Jim put the glass by the dispenser and looked back at the older man.

"What time is it?"

"Time for you to get a watch." Jim snorted out a laugh, and Bones held up a PADD with the time.

"How fucking old is that line, Bones? I think that went out of style before the Eugenics Wars." He moved closer to the PADD, and his eyes widened. "I slept for four hours? Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Figured you needed it. I was making all sorts of noise around the room, and you didn't even twitch." The door opened, and both Jim and Bones exited his room, heading back outside. The marine layer had largely dissipated since they had gone indoors, and that combined with the drop in temperature made Jim a much happier guy. "You have a class tonight, correct?" Bones kept walking as he spoke; Jim nodded anyway, despite the fact the man couldn't see him.

"Yeah, Introduction to Command Principles and the Prime Directive. Or, Introduction to let's see how long it takes for cadet brains to dribble out their ears in sheer boredom. Most tedious thing I've ever sat through." Jim muttered, and Bones scoffed.

"You want to switch out with Basic Cultural Competence in Healthcare? I don't know how I could possibly pass up on the chance to miss out on how Bolians need their own bathrooms, Andorians are very possessive of their antennae, and so on. It's thrilling stuff." Jim laughed at the dry tone in Bones' voice, and the older man smirked. As the two of them wandered through the courtyard by Starfleet Medical, Jim was waved over by a classmate standing on the outskirts of a gaggle of cadets. Shrugging apologetically to Bones, he headed towards the assembled group, the doctor trailing behind him.

"Kirk! We were just talking about you!" Cadet Aki was nice enough, if a bit ditzy, so Jim put on a charming smile and gave a tiny bow.

"Nothing too heinous, I hope." The cadet tittered (he could _feel_ Bones roll his eyes behind him,) and Jim took the opportunity to nod in acknowledgement to the rest of the cadets. Aki lifted an arm and pointed towards the rear of the group.

"We were just telling our friend about you, you know, being the talk of the Academy and all." Jim couldn't suppress a disbelieving chuckle, and Bones muttered something that sounded a lot like _Oh good, just feed his ego_ behind him. Aki dragged out a thin man from the back, and Jim's jaw dropped. "Kirk, meet Mikel Stipe. He just finished up his first year here at the Academy, science track." Stipe's face was just as confused, and Jim recovered enough to sling an arm over the younger man's shoulders.

"Mikel! Man, it's been a long time, how've you been?" Stipe opened his mouth, and Jim grinned. "Mind if I talk to you for a minute?" Before anyone could respond, Jim dragged Stipe out of earshot of the others, ducking behind a collection of trees. Stipe jerked away the instant they were obscured.

"_Kirk_? What the hell is this, Pike? Your daddy not want you anymore?" The remark stung, but Jim managed to keep a smile on his face.

"Just decided to go back to my birth name, Stipe. No big deal." Stipe boggled at him, and he bit back a sigh.

"You're adopted? Wait- James...Kirk. James Kir- Oh hell no." Stipe had obviously gotten better at fitting the pieces together in the last three years. "You mean you're _that_ James Kirk?" Jim shrugged noncommittally, but Stipe had already figured it out. "Easier to be the son of a dead hero in Starfleet than of one of its living golden boys, Pi-_Kirk_?"

"You could say that." Jim refused to go into detail to Stipe; the younger man looked at him for a moment before barking out a laugh.

"Well, Kirk, I still don't like you, but I came here to actually do something with my life. I think you did too, considering you look like a few people have been trying to beat the pretty out of your face." Jim bristled, and Stipe snorted. "You're the one with scars on your face, asshole. I know you didn't have them before. Most people use dermal regenerators, you know." Stipe turned and headed out of the clump of trees they had dove into. "You stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours."

"What is this, a soap opera holo?" Jim stated, and Stipe shrugged.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?"

"Good point." Jim paused for a second. "How's your mom?" That stopped the younger man, who turned towards him with a surprised expression.

"Doing well, she's still stationed on the Yorktown." Stipe paused. "Not going to ask about my dad?" Jim shook his head.

"No, I figured if you wanted to say anything on the subject, you would." Stipe's eyebrows lifted, and Jim blinked.

"How mature of you, Kirk," Stipe said drolly. Jim didn't respond, and the two of them rejoined the rest of the cadets in silence. Jim mouthed _later_ to Bones, who gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.

"Hey, what was that?" Stipe smiled and shrugged at Aki, who was looking between the two of them curiously; Jim kept his mouth shut to see what the younger man would do.

"We were just catching up. Old acquaintances and all that." If Stipe wanted to bury the proverbial hatchet, he was all for it. At Aki's questioning glance, he nodded. The young woman gave a spectacular pout at Stipe.

"Why didn't you say anything, you idiot! Here we were, going on about him, and you were acting like you had no idea who we were talking about." Jim interposed himself between the two, giving Aki a winning smile.

"There are a lot of people with the last name of Kirk, Aki- and it has been a long time." The woman's nose crinkled as she considered this, before letting out a giggle.

"That's true. Sorry, Mikel!" Stipe grunted a reply while Jim moved back to Bones' side. "Gotta go?" He nodded, and she smiled. "See you in class, Kirk!" He gave the woman a playful salute, nodded to Stipe and walked off.

"What in the world was that all about?" Bones flanked Jim, who shrugged and shot his friend a smile.

"Stipe's an old acquaintance. We never really got along, so we were just- clarifying some things." Bones made a hmm sound, and Jim glowered. "What?"

"Since you both came back in one piece, I'll assume that your _clarification_ was verbal only." Bones raised an eyebrow, but Jim could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. Instead of responding, Jim gave his shoulder a light punch.

"Of course, jackass."

"So it's just me that gets abused." The corresponding sigh earned Bones another punch to the arm.

* * *

Summer segued into Fall, and the regular term started up, bringing back the other two-thirds of the cadets. Things had gone rather calmly during the summer, as the cadets who had been there had mostly been either new or busy with their own dedicated projects and work to pay more than cursory attention to him; but Jim's luck ran out as the cadets returned and immediately resumed their gossip circles and rumor milling. The rubbernecking had calmed down after the first week or so, but Jim felt as uncomfortable in his skin as he did the first day he went to university. Oh, most could care less, and the higher percentage of non-humans than there had been at Mojave added to that roster, but there was still a significant group who appeared to have jumped on the chance to talk about the new _weird_ cadet. After the fifth time or so he heard a variation on the _can you believe he's that Kirk?_ theme, Jim found himself slipping into the self-imposed isolation that he had cultivated at Mojave; distant and polite, avoiding confrontation when possible. He would have stayed that way, but there was a major difference this time around, and it came in a somewhat husky framed, brown-haired package that liked to gripe a lot. He had only known the man for about four months now, but Jim was beginning to realize that he had never really had a friend like him before, and for the first time since he had moved in with Chris, a person besides his Dad and John that he felt simply comfortable with. Carol would have been the closest, but there was still no comparison. It was actually a bit frightening. Jim took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face.

"Good evening, Admiral!" Ms. Nakashima visibly bit back a giggle as Jim strode into John's office with a loud announcement, bowing to his ever-present secretary. From behind the partially closed door to the inner office, he could hear John groan. "Is the Admiral busy, ma'am? I wouldn't want to bother him if he is!" Ms. Nakashima couldn't hold it together any longer, bursting into laughter while waving a hand towards John's door.

"Get in here, you wretch," John growled as Jim sauntered in, smiling at the sleeping beagle resting in a dog bed and tossing off a borderline insubordinate salute as he did so. "You're damn lucky there wasn't anyone else in here, Jimmy. Sit down." Jim fell into the chair in front of the older man's desk, barely resisting the urge to kick his feet up. John may be fifty-eight years old, but Jim was still pretty damn sure he could beat the shit out of him. "So, Cadet Kirk, it's a third of the way into your first term here at the Academy, how do you feel about your position and progress in your courses?" John reclined back in his chair, and Jim smirked.

"How many times have you had to say that this week?" John's response was immediate.

"Once. I don't have any other advisees named Kirk." Jim let the grin overtake his face, and John returned it momentarily. "Well, Jimmy, anything to tell me? The handful of things I've heard from your instructors have been positive, excepting an argument you got into with Commander Gabrielle over the ethics of forcing aid on a group that has not requested your help." Jim frowned, and opened his mouth, only to be preempted by the Admiral raising a hand. "Jim, I know you have strong feelings on the subject, due to your experiences-" He paused, and sighed before continuing. "-elsewhere. But you cannot disrupt a class, _for_ _a whole class period_, just to make your point." John's gaze was stern, and Jim felt his shoulders slump. "Next time, take it up with her after class. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." It was like throwing a switch, and Jim watched as John's face instantly relaxed.

"Now that I've got the serious stuff out of the way, how are you doing? I may be one of the old and crusty guys that the cadets look at me like I was born before Zefram Cochrane, but I still keep up on the campus talk." Jim had no idea what the older man had heard, but he could take a pretty good guess.

"Let's see, the early ones stated that the only reason I'm here is that Dad was friends with my parents, some of them don't believe I'm _that_ Kirk at all, some have reached the conclusion that I must have become mutated due to the circumstances behind my birth-"

"Which is ironically the most accurate one of the bunch, I had heard that-"

"-and, oh yes, can't forget the most important one! I'm apparently a waste of a pretty face, who should have been euthanized at birth." He couldn't keep the edge out of his voice, and John's expression immediately went dark.

"May I ask where you heard that one?" Jim shrugged.

"Is it important?" Jim asked plainly, and John sighed, his eyes straying to where Porthos lay snuffling, his rear leg kicking absently.

"No, I suppose not. That sort of statement treads the boundaries between a simple insult and something far more serious, and Starfleet doesn't need bigots in its ranks." The man who Jim thought of as his uncle met his eyes with a firm gaze. "Let me know if you hear any similar comments, Jimmy." Jim nodded, but he knew he would never report it himself, not unless it effected someone else.

Jim bid farewell to John a short time later, the man standing up and drawing him into a short hug before taking him by the shoulders, looking him up and down before nodding and sitting back down, a smile on his face. Jim gave him a cocky grin and yet another silly salute as he was shooed out when the Admiral's comm rung.

"Have a good day, Jim." Ms. Nakashima gave him a fond smile, and he returned the favor as he swept out the door. Just as he about to head out of the building, a small group of cadets came up from behind him, one of them bumping into his arm as they passed. Jim didn't say anything; he had learned through simple experience when it was accidental and when it...wasn't, and it was obviously an accident. The second person all but barrelled into him, however, causing him to have to fumble for the wall, and he couldn't keep his mouth shut any longer.

"What the hell?" PADDs scattered the floor, and he instinctively bent down to gather them up.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I really should stop running, humans seem unable to get out of the way in time." A green hand entered Jim's vision, grabbing the PADDs he hadn't already picked off the floor, and Jim looked up to an...Orion? Jim blinked, and the woman gave him a brilliant pale lipped smile, her white teeth a mesmerizing contrast on her skin. Jim thought he could be a little bit in love. The moment was broken by her taking the PADDs he had fetched out of his arms. "Thank you for your help, Cadet-" She dragged out the 'e' sound, and he felt like smacking his forehead; instead managing to hold out a hand.

"Jim Kirk." Her mouth formed a circle, and Jim felt something inside him ping with sadness. It figured; who knows what rumors she had heard; Jim smiled, and it was probably more bittersweet than he intended as he made to stand back up. Before he could get up, her hand grasped his, and they rose back to their feet together.

"I am called Gaila." She reached out and patted his cheek, her smile sweet. "I am glad to meet you."

"Gaila, we're going to be late!" One of the cadets who had passed him earlier ran back in the door, stopping at the scene in front of him. Gaila laughed and withdrew her hand.

"I'm afraid I have class, Jim. I will see you around?" Jim knew he probably had a complete idiot grin on his face, but he didn't care.

"Absolutely." She shot him that gorgeous grin one last time before she pranced out the door, the other cadet giving a nervous smile before he followed.

"Holy shit." He didn't know that Starfleet had Orion cadets. Why hadn't Chris said anything?

As he jumped out of the taxi he took home, keying open the door without barely slowing down, Jim had important and vital questions that needed to be answered. He blew into the living room, spotting Chris reading a PADD in the recliner. Bullseye.

"Holy shit- Dad! Did you know that there are Orion cadets?" Jim threw himself onto the sofa; coming to rest on his stomach, with his chin sitting on his hands. Chris gave him a dull look over the PADD he was looking at. "Well?" Jim blinked at the older man, who just looked at him for a moment longer before rolling his eyes and setting his PADD down with a sigh.

"Yes, Jim, I am well aware that there are Orion cadets. I did the recruitment interview for one of them." Chris looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you mentioning this now?" Jim blinked innocently, and Chris rolled his eyes. "Please don't tell me you just got back from making out with one of them, there are things I don't need to know." Jim snorted, waving a hand in the air.

"I wish. No, one of them plowed into me as I left after my meeting with John. She was hot." That managed to raise a choked laugh from his dad, who gave him an amused look.

"She was hot? Now, Jim, I don't think you can find any more descriptive of a word than that. I mean, _hot_ is so- detailed." Chris paused for a moment, his lips twisting with mirth. "-but usually pretty accurate. Orions are usually quite the lookers." He blinked, and Jim boggled as the older man's ears inexpicably reddened. "But you didn't hear that from me. So, what was this lovely cadet's name? Did you have better luck than the last time you got ran over by a girl?" Jim wished that his glare actually worked on his dad; but over a decade later, he was still trying. "Well?"

"Gaila. It sounds like a first name; I'm actually unsure if Orions have family names or not. I should look that up." Chris nodded absently.

"I've only met a handful of Orions, and they've all been addressed by one name only. So if they do, they don't advertise. Cadet Gaila was in a class I taught the first term of last year. She'll make a good officer." Jim glowered, and Chris chuckled. "Jim, it's not exactly appropriate for me to assess the physical attractiveness of my students, especially considering that many of them are your age and younger. I haven't hit dirty old man status quite yet." Jim let his chin slip off his hands, tipping forward and face mashing into the seat cushions.

"You're no help."

"Think of it as revenge, son. I've got over a year and a half of this built up." Jim could hear the mischief in Chris's voice and gave a muffled groan into the upolstery.

* * *

Gaila turned out to be the catalyst for a sudden growth in acquaintances and people that Jim would be willing to call friends; within just a few weeks, he had met more people than he had the entire time he had been at the Academy. The difference was he had been able to talk to some of these people more than once, and both in and out of class. It was a complete switch than what he was used to, and he wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Oh, the usual rabble was there, led by Jearo, who was still furious that he had been caught _red-handed_ by Chris beating the shit out of Jim back in Riverside, and had resolved to let him know it everytime their paths crossed, but it had become easy to ignore them. For the first time since he had gotten to the Academy, he felt like he really could belong here, not just orbiting the outskirts for the next three years.

"You aren't used to having a lot of people around, are you?" Bones said as Madeline and Cadet Lennox walked away, the residual smile fading from Jim's face as they did so. "Jim?"

"What? Oh, err, it's not a problem." Jim was still watching the two walk away, and Bones let out a sigh next to him.

"I didn't say it was a problem, I was just asking a question." Jim snapped out of it, looking towards his friend as he started walking.

"I've generally kept to myself, yeah. I like being able to think." He almost missed the odd expression that Bones shot him, the man's eyebrows drawing together in what Jim would have normally labeled concern. He must have misread the intent. Jim gave his friend a smile as they headed towards the Tucker Building, where Jim's next class was, the cooling air much more comfortable on his skin (both real and fake) than the horrid summer had been. Once they reached the portico, Bones pulled away with a pat to the arm.

"This is my stop, Jim."

"Are you sure you don't want to come to my Warp Theory class?" The scowl he received was answer enough, and Jim chuckled. "Catch you later, Bones." Bones grunted, and headed off; Jim stood on the steps and watched him leave.

"Good afternoon, Cadet Kirk." If his wings had been unbound, he would have been wrapped around the top of the closest light pole; but as it was, he did a rather impressive jump at the voice, before spinning around with a quickly assembled smile.

"Good afternoon, Captain." His salute was late, and Chris gave him a stern look, the effect tempered by the amusement in his eyes. "How are you doing today, sir?" Chris inclined his head, and gestured towards the door.

"Walk with me." The two entered the building together, and Chris led them to a quiet area by his next class. "You doing okay, Jim?" Jim frowned.

"Why is that coming up all of a sudden?" Chris gave him a pat on his shoulder before leaning against the wall with a smile.

"So defensive, Jim; I walked up to you, and you were staring at Doctor McCoy like you were never going to see him again." He ended his statement with a smirk, and Jim's jaw dropped.

"I was not, you-"

"Watch it, Cadet, you're at school right now." The smirk had joined forces with the mirth in his eyes, and Jim bit his tongue and glared instead. "You seem to have gotten quite busy this term, Jim; one week, it's all about Gaila, the next I catch you giving moon eyes at the good doctor. Maybe if you asked nicely, you could combine pleasures and save yourself the trouble." Jim was just going to keep his jaw in a southerly configuration, saved on the energy.

"-and you've always said I've been hanging around John too much. I think you seriously need to reassess your own time spent with the guy after a comment like that." Chris's shoulders began to shake in silent laughter, and Jim rolled his eyes. "As much as I'd love to continue this with you, I have class, _Captain_. If you'll excuse me?" Chris straightened, pulling down on the bottom hem of his jacket as he moved away from the wall.

"Of course, the last thing I want to do is impede on your education." The older man's smile softened to a look that Jim had termed the relieved expression, which was a new addition since he had returned from his...travels. He was beginning to doubt that the pang of guilt that hit every time he saw it would ever fade away. "Will I be seeing you for dinner tonight?" He thought for a moment, before shaking his head.

"I've got plans with Bones. I should be in before midnight, though." Chris nodded, and the two left the niche they had been inhabiting. "Have a good day, Captain."

"Same to you, Cadet." Jim smiled and turned, walking down the hall towards the classroom, passing Aki along the way.

"How are you doin' today, Aki?" The girl gave him a distracted look before registering his words with a slow blink.

"Oh, I- I'm doing okay. Thanks for asking." She was giving him an odd look, but Jim didn't think anything of it. He gave her a wave as he entered the classroom, wondering if Bones would go to that club Madeline had told him about earlier.

* * *

He first heard it about two weeks before the end of term, overheard as he walked by two cadets on the way to Bones' dorm. He only heard part of their conversation, however, and dismissed it from his mind in lieu of the more important activity of deciding where to drag his best bud to for lunch. Almost a week went by before he heard it again, and this time, both he and Bones were present for the occasion. Jim was pretty sure he had never been completely struck dumb by anyone but Chris before, and Bones seemed to take personal offense as well.

"Where in the blazes did you hear that shit, Lennox? I mean, good god man, the campus riffraff can't just leave a man alone, can they?" Bones was working up to full grump mode, which gave Jim the chance to mentally regroup before speaking, his voice reedier than he would have liked.

"Repeat that again, Tom." The skinny Scottish fellow actually inched back, and he could see Bones shoot him a look. He took a deep breath and tried to give the increasingly nervous looking man a smile. "Please."

So he did, and it was all Jim could do to refrain from sending his fist through the nearest hard surface. His head had been already buzzing, from a mix of stress, anticipation, and other things that he hadn't bothered or wanted to think about, and the sudden increase of pressure was almost overwhelming. Lennox had started scooting backwards again, and Bones actually wrapped a hand around his shoulder, which he was pretty sure was a first. Bones had figured out quickly that he didn't like people to touch his back, and this was easily the closest the man had gotten to doing so. He was too damn pissed to focus on it, though.

"Jim-" His voice, slightly gravelly like usual, held a grain of something else that helped Jim calm down; Jim looked up at Tom, who was standing a meter away looking like a deer caught in headlights, and shook his head at the younger man.

"It's a fucking lie, Tom. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Jim snarled, and the other cadet nodded as he stormed off, knocking Bones' hand off his shoulder in the process. He couldn't go home like this, Chris would immediately interrogate him on what was wrong- and that was the last thing he wanted. Footsteps came from behind him, and a familiar hand wrapped around his arm.

"Christ, Jim, what the hell is wrong? You looked like you wanted to kill someone!" Jim threw his arm out of Bones' grasp, dropping to the ground by a tree, wincing as the damp grass soaked into his pants. The older man looked down at him for a moment, his lips pursed, before joining him on the wet grass, close, but not touching. "I know it's a lie, Jim, but what is making you so damn angry? This sort of shit is pretty common in an environment like this, if there's no truth in it, it eventually gets forgotten when the next big scandal, true or not, comes along." Jim raised his head and met his friend's eyes, the silence drawing long between them as he struggled to figure out the way to explain.

"I'm not mad on my behalf, Bones- I'm angry for Captain Pike. The man doesn't deserve to be spoken about like-" Jim waved an arm about wildly, trying to find the words. "-like a dirty old man. He's a decorated Captain in Starfleet, Bones, they should be giving him their respect."

"Why is he different than the others, Jim?" Jim opened his mouth to protest, but Bones raised a finger to silence him. "Ah-ah, don't start. If this was Commander Gabrielle or something, you would be laughing it off. I've overheard you talk to the man several times, you definitely seem to get along with him better than one would expect." Jim bristled at the accusation. "Jim, it's not an accusation, I'm just saying what I've noticed." Jim shook his head, ignoring the ache that his jaw was starting to protest with from all the clenching.

"He recruited me, we like to keep in touch." The look Bones shot him was a standard one, and easy to read. He usually translated it as _I'm not a fucking idiot, Jim, so don't even try it_.

"It's more than that." He wanted to tell him the truth, but- not yet. Not for the first time since he had met Bones, Jim was suddenly very tired of keeping secrets. He ran his tongue over his lips nervously, knowing that Bones was waiting for him to say something.

"Fine. He's a friend of the family, I've known him since I was a kid. I don't advertise it, because I didn't want anyone to think he pulled strings for me or any of that shit. He didn't need to." It wasn't a lie, in any literal sense of the word, but it was a truth that was definitely lacking. The older man met his eyes without speaking, before looking forward, a sigh escaping his lips.

"I hate to say this, Jim, but your strategy appears to have backfired." That was the understatement of the year. Trust the gossip machine to twist an overheard question from Chris asking him if he was coming home for dinner into a grand tale of sex and illicit affairs. No longer was it that Chris had merely pulled some strings for him, now the talk was that he had earned, and was maintaining, his admission into the academy on his knees. From what Lennox had heard, the rumor wasn't gaining a lot of ground yet, but the class rankings for the term would be up in less than two weeks. He had a bad feeling about this.

"Fuck." Jim let himself slump sideways, his head falling onto Bones' thigh. His new pillow's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't move.

"This really bothers you, doesn't it?" Bones' hand rested on his head, and Jim closed his eyes against the warmth.

"It's disgusting." His skin felt tight, and he tried to focus on the fingers lightly combing through his hair. He could hear Bones sigh again, and the fingers traced his scalp for a beat before changing into a tap. He opened his eyes and looked up into the hazel eyes of his friend, who was staring at him expectantly; Green-bean casserole suddenly came to mind, and Jim knew he needed to get up. "Let's go get something to eat, Bones." Only lack of food would cause him to compare Bones' eyes to a dinner entree. They both got to their feet, grimacing as they scrubbed the grass off the seat of their pants.

"I agree, you felt like a massage pad set on high. Your blood sugar is probably off kilter." He rubbed again at his pants, grimacing. "I need to change first. Your bright idea of sitting in the wet grass is not agreeing with my pants." Jim snorted.

"Fuck your pants, they'll dry. Let's get out of here." He could hear Bones grousing behind him as he walked off, and Jim shivered against the early evening chill seeping into his legs through his own wet pants. The restaurant would be warm.

* * *

It had been about six months or so since he had last done this, and honestly, that last one had ended better. As Bones dragged him outside the small bar cursing a blue streak, blood pouring down his face from a cut on his temple and a busted nose, Jim felt the familiar tension fizzle out, and he barely kept himself from sighing in relief. Part of him had missed this, the surge of adrenaline as he dodged fists aimed at his head, but he knew better. He should have snuck away weeks ago, found somewhere he could do some aerial laps, but he had persisted in putting it off. Combined with the anger still bubbling in his chest over the damn rumor- he knew better. It was this same sort of combination that had led to his mess of a life not so long ago. He couldn't afford to repeat that mistake here.

"Dammit Jim, what the hell were you thinking? If a bruiser tells you to lay off his girlfriend, you listen to the fucking guy! Were you trying to get your ass handed to you?" Bones was furious, but his hands were steady and warm, holding Jim up against a wall as he did a quick inspection of his injuries. Jim turned his head to the side and spat out some blood that had trickled into his mouth, bringing a shaking hand up to wipe the rest away.

"-wasn't his girlfriend, 'ones. Jus' a guy who thought I shouldn' be talkin' to a pretty girl." Bones was in Doctor mode, poking and prodding at his wounds, and Jim fought back a wince as the cut on his head was examined. After a minute, the older man stepped back with an exasperated sigh.

"You need to get checked out, Jim. You don't look like you have a concussion, but that cut is too nasty for my tastes, and your nose could use a proper setting." Bones motioned to the main road with his head. "Come on. We'll get a taxi, and I'll fix you up at Starfleet Medical-"

"No." Jim knew that this was going to happen one day, especially in having acquired a doctor as a best friend, but he hadn't thought it would come so soon. Said doctor's face collapsed into an irritated grimace as he took Jim's hand and pulled him away from the wall.

"Jim-" Jim snapped his hand back, and set his face in the most serious expression he could manage with the pain.

"No. No hospitals, no clinics, no tricorder-type devices. This is not a discussion." He could hear the glacial tones in his own voice, and he watched as Bones' face ran through a gamut of emotions, his mouth opening and shutting several times before finally giving a loud exhale and taking Jim's wrist, but he didn't pull this time.

"Are you sure about this, Jim?"

"Yes. I'll go ahead and go home, Bones, sorry for fucking up your evening." He really didn't want to go home; he didn't think he would be able to grab the dermal regenerator and sneak into his bedroom without Chris noticing, and he really wasn't up to a lecture tonight. Bones sighed and began to guide him out of the alleyway.

"No, you need to be cleaned up. I've got a dermal regenerator back in my room, that should take care of most of it." Jim moved with Bones, but well-trained suspicion kept him dragging his heels. After a moment, Bones spun around and grabbed his upper arms, his face alarmingly close to his own. "Jim, I promise to only use the regenerator. I'll leave the tricorder packed up. Okay?" Concern had replaced most of the anger in the older man's eyes, and Jim felt his resistance crumble at the sight, far easier than it should have. Maybe Chris had a point with his insane little comment, but he sure as fuck didn't want to think about it.

"Alright." A taxi was flagged down, and fifteen minutes found Jim sitting on Bones' couch, feeling the odd and unfortunately rather familiar stretch of the regenerator working over his skin. After the majority of the damage was knit back together, Bones gave him a once-over and packed up his regenerator, his face tired but as calm as Jim had ever seen it.

"Your pretty face should be completely back to normal by tomorrow afternoon." He was exhausted, but Jim couldn't leave a comment like that unspoken. Letting himself slowly fall into a parody of a sexy lounge, he blinked his eyes up at the older man, who responded with a groan.

"You think I'm pretty, Bones? I don't know what to say!" It was a little hard to radiate coquettishness when you felt like sleeping for a week, but he gave it his best shot, which led to the reaction he was hoping for; Bones snorted and threw one of the sofa pillows at his head, misjudging his aim enough for it to smack into his chest instead. Jim chuckled as he wrapped his arms around the projectile, his body slumping back into a prone position. "Can I stay here tonight? I don't feel like getting up again." Without waiting for the man's answer, he stuffed the pillow under his head and squirmed around, trying to make himself comfortable. Without responding, Bones walked over to a closet and pulled out a blanket, throwing it in Jim's direction; he managed to catch it and shake it into position. "Thanks, Bones."

"You realize your uniform will stink of grass and other shit tomorrow, right?" Jim's eyes were already drifting shut, but he hmmed a reply. The last thing he noticed before he fell asleep was Bones murmuring good night as the blanket was adjusted to cover his feet. If Chris noticed anything when he finally made it home the following evening, he kept it to himself.

* * *

The holidays were starting tomorrow, and Jim was thrown for a loop when he sauntered into Bones' room to discover him packing a duffel. They hadn't discussed the holidays, but Jim had let himself assume with all of the man's griping about the ex-wife that he wasn't going anywhere. He had obviously misread the situation. The sofa was covered in clothes, so Jim flopped down onto the bed instead.

"Whatcha doing, Bones?" The older man hadn't even looked up when he came in, but he paused at Jim's voice before stuffing a pair of pants into the bag as he craned his head behind him.

"What does it look like, genius?" Bones growled, getting to his feet and grabbing a few of the shirts on the sofa, sending them into the duffel as well. Jim frowned as he watched the other man putter around the room, and after the silence ran between them for a period of time, Bones sighed and dropped the duffel. "What do you want, Jim?" Jim shot Bones a pout as he flopped back onto the bed.

"You didn't say you were going anywhere." It came out far more hurt than he intended, and Jim winced inwardly; something flashed in the older man's eyes before he looked away.

"I just got the word two days ago, Jim; originally...I was staying here." Bones wasn't looking at him, his eyes were focused on some invisible spot on the wall; Jim had no clue what he was talking about. Pulling himself upright, he kicked his legs and hopped off the bed, moving to Bones' side.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Did- did a family member die?" That got his friend's attention, the man spinning on his heel to face him.

"What? No!" The wide-eyed look on his face faded as he seemed to mull it over. Jim forced himself to remain quiet. Bones heaved a deep sigh, his shoulders raising and lowering with the effort. "No, no one died. I just found out that I'll be able to see Joanna for Christmas. I didn't think-" He paused, swallowing heavily, and Jim blinked in confusion. "-I didn't think I'd be able to see her." Jim knew he wasn't talking about his ex, there was no possible way; not after six months of vitriol and bitterness. But who was Joanna? An old girlfriend? The only answer that made sense barrelled into him, and his jaw dropped open.

"You have a _kid_?" Bones actually flushed, and Jim bit his tongue against the surge of anger. Why hadn't Bones told him? Jim watched in shock as Bones shook his head, lines of exhaustion making him look older than his twenty-eight years.

"Don't even try it, Jim. I don't ask you about your secrets, and god knows you have a lot of them; you don't have the right to get angry over mine." Jim wanted to argue, to complain; but that would make him a hypocrite of the highest order. His whole damn life was framed around secrets, who was he to insist on others to do otherwise? "Yes, I have a kid. Her mother got sole custody, and I was under the impression that she wouldn't let me in the state, let alone see my daughter." Bones' face softened, and Jim marveled at the simple smile that was sneaking its way onto the man's face. He needed to smile like that more often. Bones smiling was far more important than dwelling on shit that was unimportant. Jim grinned and slapped the older man on the arm.

"That's awesome, man! How old is she? What kinds of things does she like? Do you have a picture?" Bones locked eyes with him, and Jim could see the exact moment when his resistance crumbled; the green tones of his irises brighter than ever as he cuffed the side of Jim's head with a fond snort. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a PADD and turned it on, tilting the device so Jim could see it. An image of a skinny armed girl dangling from a low-lying tree branch popped up, her light brown hair and hazel eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun. Jim looked at the focused expression on the girl's face as she clung to the branch, so like her father's, and chuckled. "She looks just like you, Bones! How old is she?" He looked again before Bones could reply. "Five? Six?" Bones poked at the screen, the image changing to one of her a year or so younger, clinging to her father's neck as he appeared to be dozing on the front porch of a old-fashioned wood house.

"She's six. Her birthday was a few months ago." The smile faded as he spoke, and Jim cursed himself for bringing her age up. Bones hadn't left the academy since they had arrived. Time for a redirect. Jim threw his arms dramatically in the air, startling Bones out of the funk he was working himself into.

"Well, what does she like? Have you bought a Christmas gift yet?" He smiled expectantly at the older man, who rolled his eyes and gestured in the direction of his bag. Jim pouted at Bones, who rolled his eyes even harder. "-and you didn't even take me with you shopping! You are such a jackass, Bones." The man in question snorted and turned off the PADD, putting it back in his drawer before walking over and picking up his duffel.

"I'm sorry I couldn't say anything earlier, Jim." Jim's smile dimmed, but he shook his head in dismissal.

"This is more important, Bones." He walked over and threw his arms over Bones' shoulders in a quirky hug. Bones' arms twitched in shock, before the older man settled them loosely around Jim's waist. "Have a good trip, Bones. I'll see you when you get back."

"I would offer my mother's old advice, but I think the hypocrisy might strike me dead." Jim looked into his friend's face, his mouth twitching at the ends with suppressed mirth, and Jim chuckled.

"Oh?" Bones gave his waist a light squeeze and let go.

"Stay off the streets and outta the bars, kid." Jim raised an eyebrow.

"I expect us to be struck by lightening at any minute."

* * *

"Got any big plans for Christmas, John?" Jim asked as he stretched in the family room, his spine making a tight curve as he touched the backs of his feet. He could see the older man wince, and he let out a tight chuckle. "Well?" John shifted in his seat, glancing over at Chris. The good captain was completely out, his mouth slightly lax in sleep with Porthos curled in his lap, and John didn't even bother to disguise the affection on his face. Jim returned to a standing position and looked between the two. "Why don't you say something to him?" He didn't miss the muted expression that fell over John's features, and he sighed. "You guys have been rotating around each other in an orbit of denial for years now, and it doesn't look like anything changed when I was off being an asshole." The lines around John's eyes were different than Chris's, not as deep or as numerous, but they were competing with his nasolabial folds to make the dour-looking man look even older than he was. He lowered himself to the floor and placed a hand on John's knee as he leaned against the front of the sofa. "You two would be amazing together, John. I've known this since I was a kid." John closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair.

"Your dad and I have been doing this for decades, Jim; this is nothing new. We're both far too busy, and gone too often to consider it anytime soon." Jim pressed his lips together and scowled.

"Bullshit. Dad's in denial, and you won't push it. That's what it comes down to." John's eyebrows drew sharply together, and Jim braced himself for the verbal lashing. Both of them missed the near silent groan from the far side of the sofa.

"What in the world are you two...arguing about?" Chris muttered, the words twisting as he sat up and stretched, leading both Jim and John to jump in their respective spots. Chris gave the two of them a suspicious look, the effect weakened by the bleariness in his eyes. "Well?" The two looked at each other, before turning back to Chris.

"Nothing, dad. I was just asking him what he was doing for Christmas," Jim said, John nodding minutely in agreement, and Chris raised his eyebrows, clearly skeptical.

"Mmmhmm." Chris looked over at John, and Jim knew he could tell that John wasn't happy. "You're going to your mother's for a week, right?"

"That's the plan. I'll be back by your birthday, brat." John grumbled the last line in Jim's direction, and Jim patted the man's knee as he got back to his feet. Chris looked up at Jim, who plastered an innocent smile on his face.

"Looks like it's just going to be the two of us, then. Did you have any plans?" Chris rose to his feet, and pulled the hem of his shirt down before facing his son. Porthos shuffled into his vacated spot on the sofa and went back to sleep.

"What happened to Doctor McCoy? Or the other cadets you've spoken of?" Jim shook his head.

"Bones is in...Georgia? He's visiting his daughter for the holidays. Gaila is on a trip with her roommate, and Madeline and Lennox went home. My intent is to stay away from campus. Beyond that, I have no idea." Chris smiled, and Jim blinked. "What?"

"I'm glad to hear that about McCoy; he was so depressed about it at the recruitment interview." Chris paused, twisting his lips. "You didn't hear that from me. I shouldn't open my mouth when I'm not fully awake, I talk too much." John chuckled, and Jim frowned.

"You already knew? Well fuck." He ignored the incoming glare, and tilted forward to start stretching again. John was the next to speak.

"Why are you avoiding campus, Jimmy?" Yeah, he shouldn't have said anything. Chris tilted his head and looked down at him, the question mirrored in his features.

"That's a good question, Jim. I mean, there's usually events you can go to, I'm sure there will be parties-" John cut him off.

"This is about those rumors, isn't it." A statement, not a question, and Jim looked up at them from an odd angle, his head between his legs and his wings flaring up. Chris's brow crinkled together in confusion.

"Rumors? Which ones?" John sighed and scratched at his jaw stubble, while Jim stretched forward even further, feeling it in his back and lower wing muscles. He didn't want to explain it, hell, he didn't want Chris to even know about them if he didn't already, considering how fucking embarrassing they were. He watched John lock eyes with his dad, and Chris's furrowed eyebrows stayed put.

"What have you heard?" A simple question, and Jim took the opportunity to straighten back to a standing position, before slowly falling into the splits. Chris seemed be going through them in his head, his fingers doing a air countdown one digit at a time.

"The worst I've heard is that I've supposedly used my so-called influence to get him into the academy, because his difference in appearance clearly effects his brain." John raised an eyebrow, and followed with a leer that Jim started to bristle at, but the older man's eyes weren't reflecting the emotion.

"It's been upgraded! Congratulations, Chris, you are having a filthy forbidden sexual relationship with Cadet Kirk, and obviously it's because he has a pretty face, because the rest of him is surely disgusting to look at." The sarcasm in John's voice was bleeding, and Jim was pretty sure Chris's eyes couldn't get any wider.

"_Come again_?" Jim groaned, and let himself tip back until he ended up on his back, wings taking up most of the floor. John had once compared the pose to a dead bird; he may have almost tripped the older man a moment later. Chris was forced to nudge one of his wings inward to get around to be able to look down at his face. "Jim, why didn't you say anything?"

"What could you do? Better for it to be bandied about without backup than to have you say something and it explode in our faces." Chris pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't exactly answer the question." John had moved around to stand beside Chris, and he followed the statement with a shake of his head.

"I can guarantee that you didn't want your dad to know, Jimmy. You have a track record in these sorts of things." Jim sighed and rolled onto the side facing away from them, one wing shifting and acting as an feathered rug, while he curled the other around him like a cloak. He could hear them both shuffle behind him, and what sounded like John saying a few words to Chris before one left the room. A moment later, his unpinned wing was gently lifted, and Jim locked eyes on his dad, who poked a bit at the other wing before carefully sitting down. He had learned early that it didn't hurt...as long as he didn't move it. That had been a nice collection of feathers lost.

"Jim, he has a point. I appreciate you trying to keep me out of the campus gossip, but if it's gotten that bad, I would have preferred that you told me. Now that I know, it explains an odd statement that one of the lower-ranking professors said to me a week ago." Chris stopped, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I'm guessing it's gotten worse since the first term results posted." Jim nodded, and Chris rolled his eyes. "Jim, you are only going to hear this once from me." He leaned in with a conspiratorial smile, careful to not put weight on any wing bones; Jim couldn't resist a boyish smile in return. "Fuck 'em."

Jim was immediately and painfully reminded why he shouldn't move his wings if someone was sitting on them.

* * *

The place was called_ All I Can Do_, and a older gentleman named Crosby ran it; he and Bones had been there quite a few times ever since they had arrived in San Francisco. He liked the music, and Bones liked the booze. Well, the fact that Bones allowed him to take him back there proved that he at least tolerated the music as well; they had once tried out a joint that specialized in Kobheerian pop songs, and they had barely lasted an hour. Despite enjoying Crosby's place, he had never gone there alone, if simply because he liked doing his bar-hopping with Bones. He had wanted to go to the desert for Christmas, as he had only gotten a week there before they had to return for the fall term, but Chris was given last minute orders and shipped off to Mars for several days, effectively ending any chance of a long holiday. He could have gone down alone, of course, but he didn't want to. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had long had his fill of being alone. He had been running laps around the area, trying to keep his mind off of things, but it hadn't been working. He sealed his fate by making the dumb decision to try and call his mother for Christmas. As he expected, he was directed to leave a message, but unlike the last time he had checked it, there was no pre-recorded note stating that she was off-planet. A short hack into deployment records verified this, and Jim hoped against hope for almost a day that she would actually respond. Wherever he was, Jim spared a thought to hope that Sam was having a good Christmas as well. Not that he would know. It was times like these that he knew better than to go to any establishment resembling a bar.

Which is why he doing his best to pile drive the idiot currently trying to beat his face in (why was it always the face?) so he could get out of there. He liked Crosby, and really didn't want to cause him any extra trouble, but this was getting ridiculous. That x-gene tweaked synapse in his brain that wanted him to fly was still confused into firing when he was fighting, and he knew he should have just sucked it up and gone to the desert, but it was too fucking late now. He should have listened to Bones' stupid advice. He dodged a kick from a scrappy looking guy, but was caught across the back of the knees, causing him to crumple; as the pain surged into being, Jim found himself listening to the bar's namesake before everything went black.

The next thing he saw was familiar blue eyes, the lines fanning out from the sides as his eyelids were peeled open; groaning and batting loosely at the hands in front of his face suddenly sounded like a great idea, until the hands grabbed and held onto his.

"Jim, wake up." Opening his eyes led to the denouement of a Klingon opera being performed in his skull, and Jim moaned and shut them, trying to curl into a ball. He was thwarted by the grasp on his hands, and the voice leaning down and whispering in his ear. "Jim, you need to wake up. Doctor Phlox is off-planet, and if I have to take you to get checked out for a head injury, we all know what's going to happen." It took a moment, but the words finally filtered through his aching brain; he stiffened and shot into a sitting position, the nausea following in its wake. Jim managed to focus on the concern on Chris's face, and the nausea settled marginally.

"When- you get here?" His tongue felt like it didn't belong in his mouth, but he was able to form enough words for his Dad to sigh quietly in relief.

"About five minutes ago. You are damn lucky that Crosby called me first, Jim. What the hell were you thinking?" Chris paused, and looked up at something out of view. "I'll be right back. Don't move." That sounded like a fantastic idea. He let his eyes droop shut again, but remained in a sitting position. After an immeasurable amount of time, Chris returned and hauled him to his feet. "Thank you for the call, Crosby."

"No problem, Captain. I hope he's feeling better soon." Crosby's deep voice was soothing, and Jim mumbled a thanks to the man as Chris steered him out of the bar and into a cab, then into the house a short time later. At least it felt like a short time later, but his sense of time was a little wonky at the moment. He was guided up the stairs and into his bedroom, where Chris dumped him on his bed and told him to try and take his shoes off, before turning and heading back downstairs. The headache was excruciating, but he managed to wriggle out of his ornery footwear before he fell back onto the soft mattress.

"Sit up, Jim."

"Don' wanna." The disgusted sigh from Chris roused him enough to open his eyes, just in time to see his dad grab him by the shoulders and pull him upright again. A humming sound came from behind, and Jim automatically tried to see where the sound was coming from; but Chris's hand on his jaw kept him from moving.

"You have a nice bump here, son. The dermal will take care of most of it, but you are going to be staying here tomorrow." Jim moaned softly in relief as the regenerator did its magic, and he finally felt like he could utter a complete sentence.

"Why did Crosby call you?" The amusement that suddenly appeared on Chris's face was not what he expected. "Buh?" The older man smiled as he gently moved Jim's head to the side, and he tried not to wince when firm fingers prodded at the base of his skull.

"I've been going there for years, Jim. Crosby called the first night after you and the doctor went in, asking if you were who he thought you were." He turned on the regenerator again, keeping Jim's head angled as he ran it over the back; Jim squawked in irritation.

"You mean he's been spying for you? That's not- I mean- what the hell?" Chris snorted and killed the device, releasing Jim's jaw in the process and sitting back.

"No, Jim, he wasn't spying, you paranoid pain in the ass. I simply confirmed that you were _that_ Jim, and I haven't really spoken to him besides some small talk over drinks until tonight." Jim sagged when the full weight of Chris's authoritative stare fixed on him. This is something he really hadn't wanted to repeat again. "Speaking of tonight, son, what in the blazes were you thinking? You've managed to keep out of trouble for quite some time now."

"I didn't start it," Jim whined at his dad, cringing at the tone. Chris rolled his eyes and adjusted in his seat on the bed.

"No, but you finished it. Crosby said you fought like a man possessed, Jim- said you were smiling like a kid in a candy store right up until you got knocked out." Chris frowned. "I would be lying if I said that his description of events didn't concern me." It was time to fess up.

"I didn't want to bother you with it," Jim mumbled, and the older man tilted his head expectantly. "Remember how I would get antsy if I hadn't gone flying for awhile?"

"I do-"

"It's gotten more pronounced." Jim scratched at a cut on his hand, looking away from Chris. "It started when I was in New York; or at least I really noticed it then. It's like something crawling under my skin, in my head- my wings actually start spasming if it gets bad enough. The owner of one of the places I worked at thought I was on drugs." His laugh was harsh and self-flagellating, and Chris's mouth thinned in response. "I discovered soon after that something besides flying tricks my head into calming down."

"Fighting," Chris commented, and Jim nodded.

"Unfortunately. Found out by accident, too. I know you saw that mess on my record." The flash in Chris's eyes answered that one; the older man seemed to be going over a mental list before he spoke.

"The fine in Buffalo?" He even picked the right one; but it was logical, considering his previous statement. Jim ran a hand through his hair, the dust and grime from the floor of the bar competing with the tell-tale sensation of dried blood near the location of the bump, and he pulled his hand away with a grimace.

"They went easy on me because it was a first offense, and because they felt sorry for me or some shit. It was really-" He felt the need to explain himself all of a sudden, confess a small portion of his sins to the man who had given him everything.

"Jim." It wasn't an excuse, and he wanted Chris to know that, it was a catalyst, but not the direct cause of his issues; he could have fixed the symptoms both in the past and recently if he had bothered to make the effort.

"-but it didn't stop me from being an idiot or anything, mind you-"

"_Jim_." Jim snapped his mouth shut at the irritation in his dad's voice.

"Yeah?" Chris was pinching the bridge of his nose again. This never boded well.

"The trip we did down to the house at the end of the summer term was your last real outing, correct?" He ran it over in his head, but that was right. Doing stretches and short glides down the stairs just didn't cut it long term.

"Yeah." Chris groaned, massaging his temples before opening his mouth.

"That's almost six months, Jim. You would have been bouncing off the walls even when you were younger by this point." Chris looked at him for a long moment, before getting to his feet and walking over to his console. Jim watched him without speaking, if only because fatigue was making a reappearance, and he slumped forward, his face pressed against his hands. The older man hmmed before nodding slightly at whatever he was looking at, rising from the chair and turning off the machine before returning to Jim's side. "Stop hiding these things from me, Jim; it's gone beyond irritating and straight into migraine-inducing. I have a solution for your little problem, which I could have done months ago had you actually said something." Yeah, he deserved the exasperated glare Chris was shooting him. Jim sat up a little straighter to respond.

"Yes, sir." The other man exhaled loudly, and the glare was replaced by a softer look.

"The Academy sponsors a free lift to Yosemite every weekend, and they are always looking for volunteers to pilot the flights. I'm now the listed pilot for the trip on the third weekend of every month." Jim blinked, and tried to think of an appropriate response. "I can drop the rest of the passengers off in Yosemite, then take us to a different area for you to stretch your wings for an afternoon in peace. You need it for therapy, and I can use the downtime." He wondered if Chris had been considering going on these trips anyway, with how fast he had been able to get that together, but it sounded great. Chris leveled his gaze at him. "Well, mister stubborn, what do you think?"

"I- uh- sounds great. Thank you," Jim said, still a bit thrown by the ease of the solution. These things were never this simple to solve, why was this any different?

"Don't make me hit you, son," Chris drawled, and Jim flushed.

"No, really, it sounds amazing, I'm just kinda worn out."

"A likely excuse." Chris gave a soft smile, getting to his feet. "Get some sleep, Jim. I'll check on you a few times later to make sure you don't have a concussion, so don't panic if you see me in here." That warm fuzzy feeling was supposed to be something you grew out of, wasn't it? Jim wondered (not for the first time) how in the hell he ever left for so long. He had to swallow a few times before he could scrape together a response.

"...thanks for your help, Dad." A tanned hand ruffled through his hair, and Jim smiled up at the older man.

"All you have to do is ask, Jim. Don't forget that."

* * *

Jim hadn't felt this calm and comfortable in his own skin in several years. The trips to the Sierras were amazing, Chris had been switching between two areas that had all but been forgotten by the rest of the world, and although it wasn't the desert, they were both absolutely beautiful in their own right. John had even joined them on a few of the excursions, and Jim was fast working the fine art of matchmaking through annoyance into a world class feat. He was pretty sure the Admiral had wanted to beat the shit out of him on several occasions, but Jim could see that he was slowly having an effect on the older man. Empathis on slow. He might fess up to Chris before he turned eighty, at the rate things were going, and that...wasn't acceptable. He had no clue what else he could do.

He had taken his dad's slightly painful advice to heart, and after the clump of feathers he lost grew back in, he set about internalizing that simple philosophy. Bones had noticed and obviously approved of his change of heart regarding the rumors and other crap being slung all over the campus. He was pretty sure that the main reason was that it gave the good doctor more time to bitch about his own issues, but sometimes Bones got this look in his eyes that he couldn't quite figure out, and then he would reevaluate that opinion. The winter term blew through with little drama, his marks even higher than the fall term. Like the previous term, the nasty rumors spiked right after the top results were published, but this time, he ignored all but the ones that directly insulted Chris. Stipe had taken to giving him the stink-eye around the same time, and it felt almost nostalgic. At least unlike the Yorktown, he had a hell of a lot more space to avoid him.

A month and a half before the end of his first year at the Academy, Jim was cornered by Chris and John after what had been a pleasant dinner of lasagna and corn on the cob, and one look at the two men's faces made Jim barely able to repress his urge to dive between the older men's legs and run for it, if only because his wings would cut them both down if he attempted it. He didn't want to have to explain that one to Starfleet Medical.

"Uh, what's going on?" John's face broke out into a naughty grin, and Jim knew he was in trouble now. He never thought he'd be jealous of Porthos, who had slipped around the lot of them and was currently trying to will the scraps of food on the table to come down to him, based on his focused expression. Chris's expression was more level, so he focused his attention on him. "I've been keeping out of trouble! Promise, Bones likes pulling my ass out of the fire even less than you do-" John burst into laughter mid-babble, and Chris gave a dramatic roll of his eyes before lightly smacking him upside the head.

"You know what my mother would have said if I was you?" Jim shook his head, and Chris raised an eyebrow. "She would have said that you had a guilty conscience." Jim snorted, but he didn't bother denying it. "Relax, Jim. I just want to give you some fair warning about a specific end-of-the-year event, and perhaps some assistance if you are willing." Chris stepped back and gestured to the sofa, which Jim gladly flopped onto as John settled into the recliner across from him. Chris balanced his hip on the armrest of the sofa and looked down. "The Academy Military Ball is always held at the end of the year." He had no clue where Chris was going with this.

"Yeah, I think I remember seeing a notice about it," Jim returned, and Chris clicked his tongue. "What's the big problem?" Jim blinked and opened his mouth again. "Is this about me getting a date or something?" Chris gave an amused exhale.

"No, nothing like that. I wanted to inform you of a tradition that is always upheld at the ball." Jim just looked at his dad, and Chris tilted his head. "How would you like to learn how to do some basic ballroom dances?" Considering it was a _ball_, this wasn't exactly the most shocking thing. He was definitely missing the direction of this conversation.

"I am guessing by your buildup that there is a reason beyond the obvious." John chuckled at this, and Chris shushed him before speaking again.

"Every year, all attendees are randomly matched and required to dance together for a song, and unlike the rest of the night, where most will be engaging in the standard walking in a slow circle type dance." Jim could _hear _the air quotes around the word dance, but Chris was great at imparting his meaning without unnecessary gestures. "This is the one time where an actual attempt is expected. I figured that you would want to at least look competent on the ballroom floor when you got dragged into it." It sounded like the cliched plot out of an old movie, and his lip curled in only somewhat-feigned disgust.

"I'm guessing you've gone every year you've been back?" John started laughing at his tone, and Chris looked like he wanted to join him, but he managed to keep it together.

"-and all the years I was at the Academy as a student. It's an institution." John was still laughing, the bastard, and his wonderful dad was starting to join in the act. Jim found himself wondering if they were just completely full of shit, but he had a horrible suspicion that they weren't. Was it too late to drop out and go join a Tibetan monastery?

"No way of skipping?" The jackass started shaking his head, and Jim set into a good sulk. Damn Starfleet and their damn traditions. Chris raised an eyebrow, the amusement he was getting out of this perfectly clear as he shook his head.

"Not without being injured or arrested," Chris said drily, and Jim gave a dark grin.

"...hmm-" He knew better, of course, but it was always fun to yank on his dad's chain a bit. Chris obviously thought better of him, though, as the amusement didn't fade.

"-and don't get any ideas." Jim gave an over the top sigh and crossed his arms.

"Damn." John was still chuckling, but had calmed down enough to take a chug of his beer without choking. Jim felt this was a little unfortunate.

"Don't bother, Jimmy, even if you managed to wheedle out of it this year, you would never pull it off two years in a row. Just suck it up." Could he get court-marshaled for punching an Admiral who happened to be a family friend at a casual dinner off-campus? He couldn't think of a specific regulation at the moment, but either way, it wouldn't end well. He had seen John at the gym. Jim leaned away from the wall and shrugged.

"Whatever. So, who would I be learning these dances from?" Chris and John exchanged a look.

"Who else, Jim?" Chris said, and Jim's eyes widened.

"You can ballroom dance?" John looked comically affronted, and Chris glared.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" He was pretty sure he would have noticed his dad dancing. Singing, sure, but dancing? Jim smirked and tilted his head. Seeing either of the two dance would be worth the price of admission.

"...no reason." That earned him a smack on the side of the head from Chris, who snorted.

"Brat." Jim raised an eyebrow in response.

"You know you love it. Ow." He would need to check for bruises later at this rate. Chris drew back his hand and gave his son a smile that made Jim shiver.

"Only when it doesn't involve me smoothing your messes over at one in the morning, _son_." The innocent look hadn't worked on Chris since- ever, but it never stopped him from trying. Jim watched John chuckle and fall into one of the recliners out of the corner of his eye, and shot his dad a sheepish look.

"Point taken." The next few minutes found him being treated to a crash course on formal ball etiquette and general expectations, before being poked and prodded into some sort of proper posture and stance. Jim squawked in surprise when Chris grabbed his wings and pressed them in towards his back in a semblance of his harness for a moment before releasing them with an absentminded nod.

"What?" Jim squeaked as Chris stared at him with a thoughtful expression.

"It might be better if you put on your harness for this, but I think for the first day we can just run through the steps." Chris stepped up to Jim and grabbed his arms, placing them in what he assumed was the appropriate places. "Now, the tango is rather...pushy, and is never done in the blind partner dances because of this. Most people stumble through some sort of waltz." Jim shot his dad a skeptical look, and Chris laughed, those amazing lines around his eyes crinkling with the effort. Jim would bet every credit to his name that John was doing that besotted idiot smile again behind them. "I'll run you through both sides of a slow waltz, I know the spins won't bother you."

Jim never thought he would ever be in a situation where he would need to waltz, let alone waltz with his dad, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. He considered himself rather graceful by nature, a necessity of executing aerial maneuvers; Chris seemed to agree with his internal assessment after they ran through a few repetitions of the steps, as ridiculous as Jim felt. After a half hour or so of practicing, he was released to relax for a few minutes, Porthos's head coming to rest on his leg when his dad grabbed John from the recliner and ran through a demonstration with the older man. Jim watched the two men with a soft smile as they moved around the room, their attentions wrapped up wholly in each other, and it reconfirmed his resolve to see the two together before they all died of old age, or before Chris left on the Enterprise. Preferably the latter.

Any hopes of the whole affair being a construct of a very specific set of bored flag and future flag officers flew out the airlock the next time he spoke with Bones, who had been warned of it by a few upperclassmen at Starfleet Medical. Jim groaned and prodded at Bones' thigh like a pillow before lowering his back to the ground and burrowing his head into said thigh. The older man glowered at him as he made himself comfortable, but the leg didn't move. Jim looked up at Bones, a goofy grin on his face.

"At least I've been practicing." That got his friend's attention, and he found himself enjoying a rather nice view of Bones' hazel eyes as Bones looked down at him incredulously.

"You've been practicing?" Bones said, the surprise evident as he raised an eyebrow. "With who?" Oops. Deflection time. Jim gave the most guileless smile he could scrounge up. It was surprisingly easy, and he needed to keep in practice on someone.

"No one in particular." The eyebrow was ascending again, and Jim snorted with laughter. Bones seemed less amused.

"Bullshit." Jim twitched, but forced himself not to respond; he set about kneading Bones' thigh with a free hand as he adjusted his head, earning him a scowl.

"You have comfy thighs, Bones," Jim said, blinking up at his friend before closing his eyes. He could hear the irritated intake of air above him as Bones warmed up his inner grump motor.

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a goddamned pillow!" Nope, still running cold; he was clearly not running on all cylinders today. He had heard far better from Bones.

"You can be a doctor and a pillow." Jim smiled into the warm leg under him, and he heard Bones sigh. "Wake me up before my Conversational Andorian class starts."

"I'm also not an alarm clock, you idiot," Bones grumbled, but it was just for show at this rate. The older man went quiet, and Jim began to drift off, Bones' pulse lulling him to sleep. He thought Bones made both a great alarm clock and pillow, personally.

* * *

Jim met Bones outside his dormitory building two days after finals, the two of them walking in silence towards the courtyards near the front of the campus. There was always a small group of people that enjoyed giving him the stink eye, but Jim could see and feel that the number was far larger than normal, and even Bones looked a little stunned with the attention; Jim cracked a small smile when he shot Stipe a glare in response to the murderous look he was aiming at Jim. He kept his mouth shut and waited for the older man to speak up. It didn't take long.

"So, Jim, explain to me why everyone is giving you even dirtier looks than usual?" Bones' voice was thick with badly disguised curiosity, and Jim affected the most angelic face he had in his arsenal. On a scale of one to ten of effectiveness, Jim took another glance at his friend- and gave it a five. It was too obvious today. Still smiling at Bones, he shook his head lightly.

"No reason." Nope, about a two; the eyebrow simply rose with Jim's statement, and Jim let his grin calm down. His cheeks were getting tired. Bones gestured towards Stipe's retreating back, and snorted.

"That Stipe fellow just shot you a look that even my mother would have taken a second look at, Jim. That's multiple degrees above his usual expression of strangled intolerance." Got it in one. Jim wished that the good doctor had known the idiot when he was younger; Bones would have scared some sense into Stipe. Both of them. Jim fought down a scowl as he thought about his old acquaintence. Stipe was playing an odd game, and he wasn't quite sure how to address it. The man knew damn good and well that Pike was his dad, not his illicit lover, and had more than enough venom towards Jim to happily announce that to anyone who cared to listen. Maybe he thought that it would be more irritating to Jim to let the rumors run down the path they had taken instead. Jim groaned inwardly. That was probably it; since the gossip implicated both he and Chris, Stipe probably thought it was hillarious. He glanced towards Bones, who was guiding them towards the landscaped inner portion of the courtyard. Time to change the subject.

"Hey, Bones, got a date for the dance yet?" Jim smiled mischievously, earning an eyeroll as Bones leaned against a tree, rubbing his back against it for a moment like he was scratching an itch.

"You know I'm not looking for a date, I'm too damn old to be-" Bones stopped short, and Jim couldn't restrain a guilty grin. "Damnit, Jim, don't change the subject!" Jim bumped shoulders with his friend as he settled against the tree next to him, and looked out on the cadets passing by. Uhura walked by without sparing a look to either of them. It was almost refreshing. He gave an over-dramatic sigh and replied.

"Dang, almost worked." The brunet shook his head in disgust, before blinking and turning back to Jim.

"Wait, they announced the class rankings today, didn't they?" His voice was suspicious, and Jim blinked right back at him. Bones was getting faster at this.

"Yeah. Say, why don't we go together to the dance thing? That way you don't have to go in alone, probably looks bad on the receiving line." That actually drew a rare chuckle out of the doctor, who bumped his shoulder and gave him the amused eyebrow. It had taken awhile, but Jim was pretty sure he had finally catalogued all of them.

"I'm in shock that you even know what a receiving line is," Bones said, leaving Jim to gasp in feigned insult and fold his arms with a pout. As expected, the older man rolled his eyes at the theatrics and scoffed.

"I'm not totally a lost cause, Bones! I know things." Jim finished his statement with a firm nod, pout faded to a haughty expression; the eyebrow went from amused to what Jim liked to call the _really now_ setting. Jim bit his lip to fight the laughter that bubbled up from the last thought. Bones the preternaturally grumpy robot; with multiple eyebrow expressions! He didn't even realize he had started chuckling until the person in question kicked him in the calf, startling Jim from his musings. The older man worked his jaw for a moment, but no sound came out; Jim let a smirk out into the open. That woke Bones up.

"There is a key word in that statement, kid." As a comeback, he would give it a four; Bones had far better material in his arsenal. Jim felt his stomach grumble. Time for both of them to find some lunch, but not until he was done screwing around with Bones.

"Boo~nes?" The drawled tone that Jim adopted got only him a slight raising of an eyebrow. It was defintely time for some food, hunger was making his own banter weak. Bones pushed himself away from the tree trunk and moved into Jim's line of sight, his arms crossed.

"...you never answered my question regarding the class rankings, Jim." Yup, Bones had definitely gotten better at dodging the bullshit redirect. Jim moved forward, brushing a hand against the older man's folded arms as the two turned and walked out of the garden. After their feet contacted concrete again, Jim shrugged and answered Bones' question.

"I did alright." Bones opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out, they had company. Jim took a page from his friend's book and scowled at the newcomer.

"Hey, Kirk, you obviously are a better fuck then you look!" The anger surged in his chest, freezing and burning all at the same time, but he forced himself to relax. _Fuck 'em._ He turned slowly and faced the bastard.

"Care to explain that, Jearo?" The man's pale skin was red with emotion, not unlike the day they met. He had no intention of letting his blood tattoo the asshole's knuckles again, however.

"That's the only way your scores would be where they are. Or does Pike like your mouth more?" Jim restrained a squawk, turning the full force of his glare on Jearo, only to be intercepted by Bones, who was clearly pissed. Bones was angry _for _him, not _at_ him, and the pleasant thought made him calm down and focus just as the older man opened his mouth.

"Now wait just a damn minute-" Bones growled, but Jim needed to do this himself. Bones trailed off as he stepped in front of him, facing Jearo head on; the bastard clearly hadn't expected to be confronted, and he didn't bother suppressing a dark smile when Jearo moved back a few paces.

"I don't give a flying fuck what you say about me, asshole, but Captain Pike deserves some goddamned respect." Jearo sneered, mouthing his dad's name with a look of amusement that Jim wanted to sock off his face. He settled for getting in the man's face instead. "I'm not going to repeat that, Jearo. Get the fuck out of here. If you spent less time being a nasty fucker, then you might have actually passed some of your classes." Jearo's eyes were darting between him and Bones, who had stepped up beside him, and it was clear that the math was being calculated in his head. Logic actually appeared to have won out, and Jearo shot both of them a furious glare as he withdrew.

"Do you kiss the _Captain_ with that mouth, Kirk?" Any bite the man may have had was gone, and Jim rolled his eyes and turned towards Bones, but not without returning the man's glare one last time.

"Fuck you, Jearo." Bones snorted, and Jim didn't bother to acknowledge when Jearo stormed off. "Bones, I'm starving. Let's go find some lunch." His stomach rumbled boisterously in agreement, and his friend raised an eyebrow.

"When was the last time you ate, Jim?" That was a good question, and he honestly couldn't recall, now that he put his mind to it. Bones' brow was arching in irritation, and Jim knew his face had already betrayed him.

"Err- yesterday?" The older man growled, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him towards what Jim could only assume was going to be somewhere that provided food.

"Damn it, Jim, you're too skinny as it is! What are you, sixty kilos? That's too low for a man of your height-" Normally, Bones would be one hundred and fifty percent right, but he wasn't exactly normal. He had to keep within a relatively small weight range, or he had to overcompensate when trying to fly. It wasn't fun.

"I'm actually sixty-one kilos, and it is for me, Bones. I have...issues if I go over sixty-three or so. Trust me on this." Bones's scowl was deepening, but he seemed to be warring with himself on what to say, his mouth creeping open and shutting again.

"Jim-" The older man looked at him with such intensity that Jim felt his cheeks reddening before the doctor heaved a exasperated sigh. "Alright. But it's still not good to skip meals." He empathised the last line by squeezing Jim's bicep, Jim responding with a cocky smile.

"Yes, mother." The hand wrapped around his arm tightened, and he winced. Between Chris and Bones, he was going to be a bruised mess at the rate they were going. "_Ow_."

"You are such an infant sometimes."

* * *

Gaila looked stunning in her shimmering reflective excuse of a dress, a Betazoid creation that concealed little and tempted much. The cadet she had chosen to be her escort to the ball looked like a kid who had just been awarded all the toys he could ever want, and even Bones had expressed his amusement as they watched the two as they made their way around the room, the lively Orion woman clearly the life of the party. Bones kept pulling at the neck of his dress uniform as they sat at their table, poking at the overcooked remnants of the beef bourguignon while Jim tried not to watch his dad and John, who were both working their way around the dance floor with Admiral Nogura's wife and Commodore Newton respectively. Their experience was clear, and Jim felt a twinge of guilt at second-guessing their skill. He had been hammered with it twice a week ever since the ball came up, and he was about as ready as he would ever be. It would be a handy skill if he ever got invited to a wedding or something, he figured.

"Gaila would dance with you if you asked." Bones' voice tore his attention away from the dance floor, and he blinked owlishly at his friend for a moment before he mustered a proper reply.

"Nah, she's having too much fun dragging that guy- err, Cadet Band? Around." Jim paused, and began to laugh. "Talk about an unfortunate name." Bones snorted, stabbing at a chunk of cubed meat and popping it in his mouth with a grimace.

"You'd think Starfleet could rustle up a proper meal for these things, but it's the same mediocre crap as always," Bones muttered as he chewed, and Jim laughed and shifted in his seat, looking up just in time to see Gaila drift over, a brilliant smile on her face.

"Hello, Jim, hello, Doctor. You should come dance!" Jim could see Band bristle as Gaila draped herself over Bones, the older man tensing for a moment before tilting his head up and giving the woman a smile.

"Is that an invitation, ma'am?" Gaila threw back her head and laughed at his tone, both teasing and flirting and something Jim definitely wanted to hear more often. Band looked like he wanted to punch Bones, though, and Jim tried to communicate that quickly with a pointed tilt of his head. Bones gave her a soft smile and patted her arm, Gaila getting the hint and releasing him. "I'm not quite done with my dinner yet, unfortunately. However, I think Cadet Band would love a dance." The green skinned woman looked behind her, giving the jealous cadet a smile before turning back to the two of them.

"Of course, Doctor. Jim-" Gaila met his eyes with a stern look, and he flushed. "-I expect to see the both of you out on the dance floor sometime tonight. No hiding back here until it's time to leave." A finger was thrust at his head, and his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on it automatically. "Jim?" Jim pulled his eyes away from her hand and gave her a cocky salute.

"Aye aye, Captain." Gaila closed the gap with her finger and pushed at his forehead for a moment before stepping back, looping an arm through Band's and walking off. Jim turned his attention to Bones, who still looked completely amused. "Band looked pissed. I wonder what he thought he was getting when he agreed to be Gaila's date for the evening." The older man pushed his plate away from him and raised his arms, stretching his back over the chair.

"Probably entertaining delusions that she would ignore the rest of the academy and stare at him the whole night," Bones drawled, and Jim chuckled in agreement. "Considering you and Band are probably the prettiest ones in here, he was probably feeling threatened." Jim shot his friend a very strange look, Bones happily ignoring it and downing the rest of his wine. "Don't even start, Jim, you know damn good and well that Gaila could care less about any of your so-called lacking characteristics. She enjoys seeing you happy." The look in Bones' eyes seemed to agree, and Jim couldn't think of a damn thing to say. Bones set down the wineglass and got to his feet, nudging Jim's ankle with his foot. "Come on, then; I suppose we best make the lady happy. That _academy tradition_ aught to be starting soon, anyhow." Bones sounded like he was listing off STDs with that last statement, and Jim barked out a laugh and followed him onto the edge of the dance floor.

Turned out their timing was impeccable, and only a few minutes after they had joined the crowd, a cadet that Jim remembered seeing in one of his diplomatic courses ascended the stage stairs, a PADD in hand. After the room quieted, the woman launched into a chipper introduction of the major event of the evening.

"Good evening, officers, cadets, honored guests, I hope everyone is enjoying themselves tonight at the ninety-fourth Starfleet Academy Military Ball! In the spirit of cooperation and friendship, there is a tradition that is always honored at these events, and I look forward to introducing it to you." Jim listened to the cadet explain the procedure; a modification of a Jack and Jill-style competition, but without the actual competition, and found his gaze wandering towards Chris again. His dad was standing with John and Commodore Newton and her husband, all of them looking particularly sharp in their own dress uniforms (and in Commodore Newton's husband's case, a silk suit of Indian design.) Jim decided he was going to be a sap and hope that John and Chris got paired up together, although the chance was incredibly slim. The pairs were read off for the first group, and John was paired with the Ambassador to Betazed, a flirtatious-looking woman with a wild wig and a dress to rival Gaila's, killing any chance of he and Chris dancing. The next group included Bones, and Jim waved him off with a grin as he was paired with Cadet Slic, a nice Bolian woman he had talked to on several occasions. The older man cut quite the figure out on the floor, and he watched Bones spin the blue-skinned cadet flawlessly again and again. If Jim was able to get dizzy without being ill, he knew his head would be spinning watching the two of them. He gave Bones a swat to the shoulder as he returned, earning him a glare in return.

"_What_, Jim?"

"You old dog, you never told me you could dance! You cut quite the figure out there with Cadet Slic." Bones growled and downed a glass of champagne as the two of them sniped back and forth, waiting for the next group to be called. When the MC walked up to the stage again, his friend turned to him and smirked.

"Should I prepare for treating your partner's toes, Jim?" The look he leveled at Bones screamed bite me, or at least he hoped it did, before he rolled his eyes and scoffed at the idea.

"I've been practicing, I told you. Just be prepared to be dazzled by my skill." Bones raised an eyebrow.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Jim opened his mouth to snark right back at him, but the MC began to read off the next pairs, shutting him up. Uhura was paired with a stoic-looking Vulcan instructor, Lennox with Cupcake, of all people, and Madeline with Gaila. Just as it looked like he was going to be waiting again, the judgement came down.

"Captain Christopher Pike and Cadet James Kirk." Jim froze, and glanced up at the stage to make sure he had heard that right. The monitor confirmed it, and Jim shot a quick look at the cadets manning the consoles; two of them were smirking and glancing between Chris and him, and Jim remembered seeing the blond one with Jearo before. It fucking figured. Bones looked a bit bemused by the situation, and he couldn't help but agree. With a quiet groan, he walked onto the dance floor and pretended he couldn't hear everyone whispering around him as he passed. Chris was already there, and he gave a nervous smile to his dad, who responded with a softening of his eyes and a tiny shrug. This would be just like their practice sessions, just with more people. Chris put his hand on his son's waist, and Jim placed his hands on his shoulder and other hand respectively, and they set off across the floor.

"Just relax, Jim. Might as well show them up." Jim couldn't help but smile as they ran through the steps; he wasn't perfect, but just the snatches of what he could see of the others told him they were definitely one of the best. After going through the first series of spins, Chris chuckled. "It's a good thing I don't get dizzy easily, with you looking so unflappable during them." Jim laughed quietly as they moved.

"As much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad you taught me this; I'd feel like a moron if I was stumbling around out here." The look that Chris gave him was understanding, and Jim smiled in thanks.

"I know you would have, which is why I brought it up. Next year, you'll actually get to dance with someone else, there's no way that they'll be allowed to rig it two years in a row." That was a good point, but he had his doubts. Asses like Jearo didn't just disappear, they just got more idiotic. Next year would be probably with John instead.

"I wouldn't be surprised, honestly. But hopefully they'll have moved on to a new person to bother." Chris's eyes reflected his agreement, and they fell into a companionable silence as they continued their dance. If anyone had told him two months ago that he would be ballroom dancing and enjoying it, Jim would have thought the commenter needed to get his head checked. But now- Jim wished he could be out on the dance floor unencumbered. Some of the steps had to be slightly modified to account for the wings, but he had preferred it; he simply felt more stable on his feet with his wings out. He was pulled from his thoughts by Chris clearing his throat, and he met the older man's eyes.

"I hate to point this out, Jim, but Doctor McCoy is looking at us the same way he probably does at a difficult incision," Chris said bluntly, and Jim pursed his lips in thought.

"I already told Bones that we were acquainted." That earned him an eyeroll and that expression that he liked to think of as the _I raised you not to be an idiot_ look. Jim had the unfortunate feeling that he was too far gone already. Chris sighed, and after a spin, he spoke.

"Jim, there's acquainted, and there is having lived together for over ten years. McCoy is a psychologist, among his many talents; he knows how to read body language." Yeah, that was a good point. A really good point. One that he should have thought of. Jim snorted inwardly. It was too late now.

"Yeah, that's true," Jim muttered, and his dad groaned in disgust.

"Jim, stop being a wimp and bring him over for dinner or something. You've got to learn to trust people sometime, and he is clearly the most obvious candidate. You didn't have any problems with Carol knowing, and you had known each other for less time than you and McCoy have." Jim sighed as they went into the final spins. Chris had a point. Like usual. They came to the finish and bowed. "Jim-"

"The only problem with your example is that we aren't going out." Jim cultivated a carefully blank look, and the older man snorted.

"Jim, with the amount of time you two spend together, you might as well be." The expression on Jim's face was flat at that comment, and Chris frowned.

"Pot kettle much?" Jim said, raising both eyebrows, and Chris flashed a surprised grin and chuckled before stepping away.

"Get out of here, you rascal." Jim did a picture perfect about-face, returning to Bones' side. The look on the man's face made him pause, and when that eyebrow joined the fray, he had to comment.

"Ooo, what's the eyebrow for?" Bones snorted and shook his head, amusement clear in his eyes as Jim settled in next to him.

"Nothing. You were actually pretty damn good out there." He was pretty sure he was blushing. Bones generally didn't give out compliments without a serious amount of sarcasm behind them, and all Jim could do was chuckle in response, triggering an eyeroll from the older man.

"I told you I practiced, Bones." He glanced over to where his dad and John were standing; Chris was talking to Commander Gabrielle, of all people, but John caught his eye and smiled, he doing the same in return. "Got any plans for tomorrow?" Jim said as he turned back towards Bones, and after a moment of thought, his friend shook his head no. He plastered a grin on his face, if only to conceal his nervousness. "Awesome. I'll make us lunch. I'll pick you up at ten." Bones blinked slowly, then nodded his agreement.

The rest of the evening passed in a flash, with both an irritated Jearo and a blank-faced Stipe both going in the last round; he expected to hear something from Stipe, but he continued to avoid them. At least it was one less thing to stress about. Jim bade Gaila, Madeline and the others a good night a short time later, Gaila whining about how she hadn't been able to watch his dance very well because they had been on the floor at the same time.

"You didn't miss much." He had gotten smacked for that one. He walked with Bones part-way back to his dorm before splitting off and heading off-campus. When he had walked about a quarter of the way back to the house, a taxi came up along side him and slowed, the back passenger window opening.

"You want a ride, kid?" John drawled as he dipped his head out the window, and Jim could hear Chris laughing behind him in the cab.

"I don't know, my daddy always told me not to accept rides from strangers," Jim said, his voice pitched high as he stretched the syllables. John promptly choked on his own spit, and he could hear his dad howling as the taxi came to a stop. Jim climbed right over John as soon as the door opened, the older man still coughing into his arm, and settled down in-between them as the taxi set off again. Chris was wheezing by this point, and Jim looked between the two incredulously. "What did you guys do, drink all the champagne in the room before you left? I haven't seen Dad this drunk in...ever!" John leaned in close, and his nose crinkled at the scent of alcohol on the man's breath.

"No, but another esteemed Starfleet officer may have lost a bet with Chris." John appeared to be more sober than Chris, at any rate; the captain was slumped in his seat, his head falling onto his son's shoulder. Jim could smell the liquor on his skin, it was so strong.

"-aaand what was the spoils in this bet?" Chris was a lost cause, so he focused his questioning on the admiral instead. Who wasn't cooperating.

"That would be telling," John slurred, and Jim had never felt so...grown up. At least they were happy drunks.

"Dad's actually passing out, John, this may be a first." John peered around him and grimaced in acknowledgement.

"It may have been a bottle of a certain blue liquor." Jim looked back down at Chris, the slivers of his eyes glazed over as he stared at absolutely nothing, and slapped a hand over his eyes. John gave him the sort of very serious expression only the truly blitzed could pull off. "What's the problem?" Jim groaned and propped his dad back into a sitting position before moving to Chris's right, nudging the captain over until he was falling against John instead. The drunken haze in the admiral's eyes seemed to clear for a moment as he stared down at Chris, the younger man burrowing his head into the side of the stunned John who glanced back up at him for a moment before wrapping an arm around Chris's shoulders and closing his eyes. Jim gave them both a boyishly sweet smile before turning and telling the taxi driver to take his time.

When Chris staggered out of his bedroom the next morning, Jim had taken one look at the tangled mess of his hair and burst out laughing. The older man had promptly tried to smother his son with a pillow, and Jim knew it was going to be a good day. His euphoria was dimmed slightly when he saw John come out of the guest bedroom instead of the master, but he supposed he couldn't win them all. He took pity on the two hungover men, plying them with coffee and hyposprays he had pilfered from Bones' stash. It was clearly a testament to how bad they felt that he didn't get a single question regarding the origin of the drugs. John left for home a short time later with a promise to be back, and Jim took the opportunity to make sure the house was feather-free, cleaning multiple rooms before he was satisfied. When Chris emerged the second time, he was an entirely different animal, freshly showered and focused; he took a look around his newly-cleaned downstairs and chuckled.

"Decided to bring him over today, did you?" Jim remembered just in time that it was generally considered impolite to flip off your parents, instead looking over at the clock. He would need to go soon to pick Bones up, and he still needed to put on his harness and do a last minute sweep. "Jim, sit down for a minute, you're working yourself up for no reason." Before he could protest, he was pushed into the recliner by Chris, who sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"You're sitting on the coffee table." Chris smirked.

"I bought it." Jim shrugged, and let his head fall back. "Jim, when I said you should bring him over, I didn't mean you had to do it immediately, you know."

"Yeah, well; usually how I do things," Jim muttered as he jumped onto the back of the recliner, balancing with a childish grin as he rode it as it flattened down, before leaping from the back when his dad tried to smack him.

"I hope John is over when you finally break that chair; I look forward to watching him exact his revenge." A short beat of his wings later, and Jim was on the stair-rail with a naughty smirk.

"I look forward to it." Chris rolled his eyes before he turned and headed out of the room.

"Hurry up and get ready for your date, Jim." Chris's voice faded as he walked away, leaving Jim to boggle at its echo.

"This isn't a date!" The laughter that returned at his statement was boisterous and downright evil, and he scowled in its direction.

"Now you know how I feel, you brat!" He probably deserved that.

Thirty minutes later found him swooping into Bones' dorm room, where the older man was walking out of the bathroom, and before he could say anything, Jim had maneuvered him into a taxi. The two-hundred year old fixer-uppers that were popular with most of the off-campus living cadets rushed by as the driver took them on the usual way home, and after a moment, Bones gave him a confused look.

"Er, Jim, where are we going?" He just smiled in response, and Bones took the hint with an infinitesimal sigh and sat back, his head angled out the window. The gates to the mostly 'fleet-owned group of homes opened automatically, and the driver proceeded through the streets with practiced ease for a minute before coming to a stop in front of a familiar residence. He swiped his credit chip as he slid out of the vehicle, giving the driver a wave in thanks as he bounded up the steps. Bones was lagging behind, standing at the bottom of the steps like he had just been dropped in the middle of Qo'noS instead of the Ghost Town, and Jim rolled his eyes as he placed his hand on the identification pad.

"Well, come on!" He entered the house, Bones behind him, and looked around the living room before he heard the sounds coming from the kitchen. "Hey Dad, I'm back!" Bones stiffened behind him as he finished his statement. "-and yes, I brought Bones with me." He could hear Chris set down whatever he was working on.

"Only took you a year to bring him over, Jim." Chris walked out of the kitchen with a dishrag thrown over his arm, and Jim would have given up his wings for a camera at that moment. He had never seen Bones that stunned; the older cadet's mouth was hanging open, and his eyebrows were attempting to mate with his hairline. It was fantastic. As was the smell coming out of the kitchen, so Jim threw his friend a quick grin that Bones was too shocked to notice as he sidled around his dad and entered the kitchen. It was pasta with pesto alfredo sauce and chicken breasts, and he spared no time in grabbing a spoon and sampling the sauce while listening to Bones babble out in the living room.

"Friend of the family, huh?" Bones growled with exceptional feeling behind it, and Jim didn't know why he had been so nervous about bringing him over in the first place as he chuckled and poked at the chicken. There was easily enough for four people, and he smiled at his dad's back as the older man spoke to Bones.

"My devious coward of a son-" Then again, he and Bones could just eat it all. Jim sucked on his spoon and scowled.

"Hey!" Chris ignored him, finishing the explanation to Bones before turning his attention to lunch.

"You better not be eating my lunch, you brat!" Chris griped, just as Jim popped the sauce spoon back in his mouth.

"You made a ton of it, old man, stop being so stingy!" Jim bitched right back, turning to poke at the chicken again just in time to get smacked in the back of the head, the blow making the spoon fall out of his mouth and clatter on the counter next to the pan as he grabbed the back of his head and hissed. Chris responded with an eyeroll.

"If you are going to eat it, finish cooking it for me. I'm going to have a chat with the doctor," Chris said as he put the vicious dishrag on the counter and strode from the room. Jim frowned at his back, before turning his attention back to the stove. He had figured this would happen, as Bones probably had a shitload of questions that would need to be clarified; but he had kinda wanted to be there for it. He sighed and turned the chicken, catching snatches of dialogue from their conversation as he tested the pasta and stirred the sauce. He heard the front door open a short time later, and John's voice was clearly audible as he joined the two men in the other room. As he turned off the heat on the separate dishes and covered them, a sound he did not recognize pulled him out of the kitchen. The sight that met him when he peeked around the doorway made his jaw drop. Bones' head was thrown back and he was _laughing_, truly laughing; Chris and John were also cackling like deranged hyenas as they began to snipe at each other. Jim watched Bones wipe at his eyes, the grin still firmly attached, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He entered the room without a word, setting himself down next to the brunet as his dad and John continued bitching at each other. It was a familiar sight, and he wasn't surprised when Bones leaned in.

"Are they always this-" Jim grinned.

"-married? Yep, although they'll both deny it." The look the older man shot his dad and John was classic, and he wished _again_ for a damn camera.

"I know many a person who would call what they're doing foreplay," Bones stated with a dubious tone to his drawl, and Jim couldn't keep the girly giggle from bursting out in response as he swung his head from side to side.

"The two have been sailing the great river denial for well over a decade. It's reaching epic proportions at this rate." That got their attention, and he quickly plastered on an innocent smile as the two men turned their gazes on them in almost perfect unison. Bones actually shook a bit, and Jim's innocent grin was starting to hurt.

"Is lunch ready, Jim?" The expression on Bones' face was glorious, and as they all sat down for lunch, his friend loosened up and began to talk to the two officers like he would anyone else, with John and Chris countering right back. Jim interjected occasionally, but he was simply enjoying watching the three men talk. When the eyebrow was used without remorse after a baiting comment from John, Jim knew Bones was going to fit in just fine.

* * *

Bones had never been to the desert before. He had never been to the desert before, and as Jim pulled the dubious doctor out of the taxi, Chris laughing silently behind them, he felt like he had come full circle.

"This explains why you are such a lunatic," Bones muttered as they walked up the remaining few hundred meters to the house, the dry oppressive heat of late June bearing down; Jim thought it was almost refreshing after all the humidity in San Francisco, but he had a strong suspicion Bones wouldn't agree with him.

"What do you mean?" Jim quipped cheerfully, and Bones leveled a dull look at him.

"Between the brain-frying heat and endless amounts of sand and dirt, I'm surprised either of you are able to form complex sentences." Chris had remained silent up to this point, but Jim knew he wouldn't stand for insults to his desert. The look on his dad's face as he flanked Bones parroted that belief, and he barely resisted laughing at the sight.

"Might I remind you, Leonard, that I grew up here in the Mojave; I don't take slights to my home soil lightly." Chris adjusted his duffel as the house began to come into view. "Besides, I don't believe it is that much warmer than your part of the continent this time of year." Jim smiled as Bones scowled in response, his attention turning to the house that was only a minute away now, its sand-colored facade complementing the surrounding scenery like it always had.

"A week, huh?" Bones said as he looked around the front of the house; with its creosote bushes and the old motorcycle still covered off to the side, looking skeptical at the scene laid out before him. "Is there really enough going on around here to fill up a whole week?" As they entered the house, the twin naughty smiles that he and Chris shot Bones in response made the man look like he was going to run for it. He settled for grumbling about the heat instead, and Jim's answering smile was interrupted as he sniffed at the air that rushed out. Despite the wonders of modern technology, there was always a staleness to the air after the house had been left vacant for a long period of time, and dust still managed to creep into niches throughout, regardless of the filtration system. Chris's expression mirrored his own, the older man hitting a few buttons to open up some of the windows as they headed for the stairs.

"He's worse than John," Chris chuckled as they scaled the stairs, showing the doctor to his room, Jim chucking his duffel into his before following his dad to the master bedroom, where the older man was taking the time to actually put things away properly. Jim smirked.

"He's used to his peaches and whatnot, not endless dirt and sagebrush." He angled his head towards the door, and Chris raised an eyebrow. "Whaddya say to Amboy Crater? He could use a hike, he spends too much time in Starfleet Medical to get some proper exercise."

"I heard that!" Jim snorted and headed towards the door.

"Sounds like he's done." He intercepted Bones as he left the guest bedroom, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Now to figure out what to do with you." Bones gave him the stinkeye, but didn't move away from his reach.

"I have a wide selection of hyposprays that can do everything from make your fingers fall off to making you turn the color of a freeze-dried Andorian," Bones drawled, and Jim scoffed, waving his free hand in dismissal.

"But you wouldn't use them on your favorite person, would you?" Bones' skin was hot under his fingers, but he had no desire to let go; the other man smirked in reply.

"You're right, Jim; I wouldn't use them on myself. You, on the other hand-" Jim pouted, pointedly ignoring the chuckles from the peanut gallery behind them.

"Harsh, Bones. Harsh."

Despite all the complaints, Bones actually seemed to enjoy the crater, even if he was watching every beetle that walked by with a critical eye and constantly darting his head around for snakes. Chris lagged behind as Jim pointed out the wildlife and rattled off the history of the area; Jim assumed it was because he had done this hike on several other occasions, and didn't say anything. Bones was a surprisingly attentive listener, and he only freaked out a little when he managed to pick up one of the zebra lizards running around and show it to the older man, displaying its blue and black-striped belly for Bones before setting it back down. They watched it run away in silence, before Bones looked towards him with a considering look.

"What?" His friend looked at him for a moment longer before giving an amused huff and walking a few meters away to a streak of black on the pale floor of the crater. Jim followed him as he bent at the knees and picked up a dark rock, moving it between his fingers.

"Y'know, I didn't know what to expect when you asked me to come down to your desert house for awhile; I assumed you were just bullshitting about a nice cushy place in Mojave or something." Bones let the rock slip from his fingers back to the dirt and rose to his feet, scrubbing his ash-stained fingers against his pants as he turned towards Jim; Jim bit down a rush of inexplicable nerves when their eyes met. "You really are full of surprises, Jim. I mean, look at you- I've been listening to you go on about a damn crater for over an hour like it paid you to." Bones actually smiled, and Jim felt himself grinning self-consciously in response as the other man slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Well now, Mister Expert, you were going on about a crazy lakebed around these parts? Something about salt and other particulate matter that will clog up our damn lungs." Bones released his shoulder and began to walk back the way they came, passing Chris with a nod. Jim took a minute to process his sudden departure, and looked over to see his dad looking at him in amusement.

"What?" He was starting to feel like a glitchy recording. Chris grinned wide, his laugh-lines in full display, and Jim just shot him a look as he sped up to catch up with Bones. Chris flanked him, his dark blue eyes gleaming.

"McCoy's quite the character," Chris said, turning his head to follow the man in question's progress. "He's a sarcastic and pessimistic son of a bitch who hates the world-" Jim's jaw dropped, and he opened his mouth to say something, but was stalled by his dad shaking his head. "-but he's also a good man who is wholly dedicated to those he cares about, regardless of extraneous issues." The older man's hand found its way to the base of his neck, and Jim gave a little smile. "Too bad you didn't meet him years ago, might have prevented some things." He half-choked on his laugh as he stared wide-eyed at his dad, who gave his head a push before letting go. "Go catch up with Leonard, Jim, before he starts thinking we've abandoned him to the rattlers."

"I think they'll run from _him_ instead," Jim said drolly, and Chris barked out a laugh as they caught up with the grumbling man.

The rest of the week continued on along the same vein, with the three of them travelling to various landmarks around the Mojave; Jim telling Bones everything he didn't need to know about each one with Chris interjecting occasionally, and the good doctor bitching (mostly)goodnaturedly along the way. On the morning before the doctor was to head out to catch a shuttle towards Georgia, Jim went out onto the low jutting platforms near the house, his muscles burning from the strain of climbing up to them instead of his usual mode of travel; he didn't know how long he perched there, his toes wrapped around the edge as he watched the kestrels dart to and fro from their own niches in the mountainside. He was disturbed from his contemplations by the sound of gravel falling and dirt shifting, and he glanced down just in time to see Bones hoist himself onto to the ledge, his eyes wild and chest heaving as he pressed himself against the side, his gaze fixed to Jim's feet.

"Are you insane, Jim? Get away from the edge!" Bones' voice was higher-pitched than usual, and Jim just blinked at his friend as he looked back at him, the older man's expression oddly frantic.

"This has always been a great spot to watch the birds, I used to go up here to study sometimes as well," Jim said with a soft smile, gesturing with his head. "Those are American Kestrels over across the way." Bones's brow furrowed as he glanced towards the direction indicated before returning his gaze to Jim.

"Jim, get away from the edge." His voice was actually shaking a bit, and Jim gave him a concerned look, twisting at the waist to better look at his friend without moving his lower body, not missing the sudden intake of breath from the older man.

"Bones, you alright? Maybe you should have just yelled for me, I would have come down." He adjusted his feet on the ledge as he stretched his arms high above his head until he heard satisfying pops in his spine. "Do you need help getting back down?" He rose to his feet in one smooth motion, sparing one last glance to the raptors before going to Bones' side. "You have any practice mountain climbing, old man?" Bones was staring at him open-mouthed, and without thinking, Jim extended a finger under his friend's jaw and pushed his mouth closed. That seemed to snap him out of his daze, and he was awarded with a double eyebrow assault and a scowl.

"Jim, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Bones sputtered as Jim walked over to the small dent in the ledge that marked the way down, dropping to a crouch before grabbing the rock and swinging himself over. "_Jim_!" Jim was already halfway down the cliff face when the older man's face appeared above, and he stopped in his descent when he took in his pallor.

"Bones, do you need help down? Seriously, you don't look too good."

"Jim...you-" Bones shook his head and gave a shaky sigh as he gingerly lowered himself over the edge, and Jim kept an eye on him as they worked their way to the ground. The instant Bones' feet contacted the canyon floor, he spun on Jim, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Don't do that to me, you asshole!" Jim jerked back out of his grasp, a wounded look on his face.

"What the hell's your problem? I've gone up there for over ten years! I'm not a fucking kid, Bones, don't treat me like one," Jim sniped back, spinning on his heels and tromping back towards the house, passing his dad as he flopped onto a sofa in the front room. Chris frowned at his son.

"Jim? Where's Leonard?" Jim huffed in response, and the older man's frown deepened. "Don't tell me you got into a fight just before he's going to leave."

"He started it, the fucker."

"_Jim_."

"I don't know what his problem is! I was just out on my ledge watching the birds and he started yelling at me." Jim felt like a two-year old, but a look of comprehension came over Chris's face in response to his statement. "What?" Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Jim, you forget, not everyone is as comfortable hanging to the edge of cliffs as you are, and by not everyone, I mean very few." His sigh was deeper this time, and Jim's irritation faded. "I'll go talk to him. You know, Jim-" Chris paused at the doorway, and Jim looked up. "-if you just told him, you wouldn't be arguing with him right now." He felt his chest squeeze the instant his dad spoke, and the older man stood there without speaking as he struggled to take a deep breath. "I'm getting too old for this- and you're _far_ too old for this. I'll be right back." Chris left the room with twisted lips, and Jim sagged into the sofa cushions and closed his eyes. Bones came in a few minutes later, his eyes still flickering with emotions that Jim couldn't name; he shoved his body next to Jim's and poked at his cheek with a dirty finger, causing Jim to bolt up in his seat and swat at the offending appendage in response.

"I'll try to remind myself in the future that you have always been a lunatic who likes relaxing while in mortal peril," Bones said, and just like that, the tension was gone. Jim grabbed one of the pillows and smacked the dusty man across the back of the head, sending him lurching forward in shock. He was only stunned for a moment, and Jim barely dove out of the way as he countered with the other cushion; by the time Chris let out that ear-splitting whistle sometime later, they had managed to take out every thing sitting on the tables around the sofa and were melting in a heap on the floor. The Starfleet captain sized up the two downed cadets and clearly labeled them a lost cause as he stepped smoothly over Bones' prone form and headed into the kitchen.

"Clean it up, kids; and if you stained my sofa, no one will ever find the bodies." Bones was still laughing as he helped Jim to his feet, and they quickly got the room back in order. Luckily, the sofa was just a bit dusty, and Chris agreed to grant them a stay of execution for the time being as he handed them each a beer and took over the reassembled couch. When Bones left a few hours later, Chris waited two hours to the second before kicking him out of the house and closing the door behind him with an amused smile. Jim took to the sky, _his sky_, the mottled colors of his mountains falling below as he broke into the open air, the heat of the desert floor left behind as he caught the currents and rose higher than he had gone since the last time he had been here; as he coasted, his gaze kept wandering to the northeast, even though he knew that Bones was probably half-way to Georgia by now.

* * *

Commodore Newton was a sneaky broad (John's words, not Jim's.) She had been the instructor for his Basic Communications course, and she shared the dubious distinction of being one of the only active instructors that actually knew his connection to one Captain Christopher Pike, who she also got on well with. Jim liked her because she was his partner in crime regarding the never-ending romantic _situation_ between his dad and John on occasion. What he wasn't so sure about was her sudden propensity for stopping by _all the time_. Bones had been coming over pretty frequently since the end of the last school year, usually for meals, but she had been showing up at least once a week, talking about her newest projects and dragging Chris off to talk about who knows what.

So when she showed up late morning on a Saturday about fifteen minutes before Bones was going to be there, accompanied by her husband and what looked like ten of her closest friends, most carrying musical instruments, he was just really fucking confused.

"Uh, Dad? Something you wanna tell me?" Chris waved the crowd into the living room, a cryptic smile on his face.

"Just a little something I've been working on with the Commodore, Jim. Feel free to stick around." Jim looked at the unexpected guests in bemusement as they began to unpack their equipment, and he looked back at his dad and raised his eyebrows.

"Are you holding a concert in here or something?" Chris laughed at the confusion in Jim's voice, and he snorted. "It's been awhile since I've done any musical stuff," Jim murmured, a wistful smile coming to his face; he saw Chris exchange a look with Newton out of the corner of his eye, and glowered. "What are you up to?" The commodore laughed and shook her head while his dad gave him an innocent look.

"So paranoid, Jim; who says we are up to anything?" Jim shot the older man a incredulous look and opened his mouth, before the front door chime interrupted. Chris gave an imperious wave. "Might want to go get that." Jim groaned and rolled his eyes, but did as he was told.

"Hey, Bones." The doctor stepped inside with a curious expression.

"There's a fleet of hovercars outside the house." Jim rolled his eyes again, motioning to the inner part of the house.

"Yeah, the good Captain had plans he didn't tell me about." He turned and headed back into the fray, Bones trailing behind him with a confused eyebrow already slotting into place. Chris nodded to Bones as they entered, and Newton ushered him towards a chair.

"You must be Doctor McCoy! I've heard much about you from the campus grapevine. Judy Newton." Jim watched his friend shift cleanly to his professional persona, shaking the Commodore's hand with a friendly smile.

"I sincerely hope it wasn't all bad, ma'am." Newton laughed and patted Bones' hand before releasing her grip.

"No need to worry about that, doctor." Bones sank into the indicated chair, and Jim propped his hip against the armrest as the rest of the people settled into various spots all over the room. Chris sat down on the sofa closest to Jim, and the Commodore sat down next to him, a keyboard in her lap.

"Is anyone going to explain- _Dad_?" Half the room burst out into chuckles as Jim glared at Chris, who shrugged and motioned to Newton as he tuned his guitar. The woman shot Chris a glare of her own.

"Coward."

"Oh, be nice to the captain, Judy; his brain's been warped from raising Jimmy."

"You can shut up, old man," Chris and Jim said in almost perfect harmony, and the laughter started all over again. John pouted as he found a place to sit on the floor near his friend. Newton snorted delicately and turned to Jim.

"I got the idea of recording a collection of classics, traditional, and bluegrass- and considering your dad is the best guitar player I know, he was an obvious choice to help get everything together." Bones shot Chris a wide-eyed look, and Jim nodded.

"Sounds great, but why are you doing it here? This isn't exactly the most ideal location." John tittered from his position on the floor, and the understanding hit Jim like a phaser blast. He glared again at his dad, but he knew he was screwed.

"_You know,_ you could have just said something." Chris actually looked guilty for a moment, and Bones shot the two of them a confused look.

"You haven't so much as brought it up since you've come back, Jim- I wasn't quite sure how to go about asking you." Jim scoffed, but sat down on Bones' armrest.

"So you went for the guilt me into it day of method instead? Dad, I'm surprised; what happened to those Starfleet-honed instincts?" John opened his mouth, but a glare from Chris closed it with a snap. He glanced at Bones, who looked entirely content to just wait and see, and sighed. "Alright. What's the set list?" One of the other musicians passed it over, and Jim ran over it quickly as everyone finished tuning their instruments. "You knew I knew most of these already. I can't promise anything decent, it's been a long time." Chris smiled and shrugged as he maneuvered the guitar into the proper playing position, and the room fell silent as he began to play Amazing Grace on his guitar, a clean rendition that caused Bones to sit up sharply, his focus entirely on the Captain as he performed. As he finished, Newton smiled and gestured to the recording device.

"Wonderful as always, Chris. Now, Jim, I've heard good things about you, but I actually haven't _heard _them, if you get my drift. Is starting with Mary okay?" Jim nodded, and the Commodore gave the room a brilliant grin. "Time to get playing, ladies and gentlemen." She counted off, and Chris started on cue as she began to sing. Jim adjusted his position next to Bones, his eyes on his dad as they came to the chorus, joining voices with the older man at the right time. He was so focused on the song that he didn't notice Bones staring at him until after the song finished, his eyebrows almost embedded with his hairline.

"What?" Jim knew he was blushing, and John and Chris both chuckled as Bones shook his head.

"You're just full of surprises, kid." He gestured loosely towards the assembled musicians. "I pictured you a top forty rock and pop type of guy, not...this." Jim gave Bones a childish pout, before snorting out a laugh.

"Yeah yeah, I know I don't look the type. I like all kinds of music, though." Bones conceded the point with a tilt of his head, and Newton gave both of them a bright grin before starting the count into the next song. The next hour flew by, with Jim singing backup on several of the songs and Bones shooting him more smiles than he had ever seen out of the man, which spurred him on more than anything else the rest of the scheming peanut gallery could have cooked up. Bones needed to smile like that more often.

"Well, Jim, I know it's been awhile, but feel up to doing a very specific one on there?" Chris smiled, and Jim glanced over the list one more time before finding the song his dad was talking about. His expression fell a bit, and Chris's own mirrored the act; he could see Bones shoot him a look of concern as he chuckled dryly to himself.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jim said, meeting his dad's eyes with resolve; the older man smiled with his eyes and nodded. Jim got to his feet, but stayed at his post next to Bones' chair. The doctor shifted in his seat to look at him, and Jim smiled to him as the musicians began to play. It had been over four years since he had last performed this song, sung with starstruck eyes to a young woman who he didn't part with under the best of circumstances, but time had given him prospective on Carol. It had been a good year, and it had come to an end. There was no reason to dwell on what was lost, a lesson that he realized with a sudden closure of his eyes applied even more poignantly to the relationship between him and his mother. Someday, he hoped he could reconnect with her, but he- wasn't going to keep fighting a battle that went around in circles. He wasn't giving up, but he was done for now. Jim was so absorbed in the song and his thoughts that he didn't realize right away that John had actually joined in as backup, leading Bones to shoot the older man a shocked look before turning his attention back to Jim. The song came to a close, and as soon as Newton paused the recording, the room burst out into applause. Jim affected a cocky grin in defense, but he could feel that damn warmth creep onto his face again. Bones' applause was subdued, a slow clap that added little to the volume, but the glimmer in his eyes told Jim what he really felt about the performance. The smile that split Jim's features in response was as heartfelt as he had ever managed.

Newton and her travelling band packed it up soon after, with the blonde woman giving all of them, Bones included, big hugs and a peck on the cheek before coasting out the door with a wave. Chris decided that pizza sounded excellent for their much-delayed lunch, and as they tucked in, Jim watched as Bones kept shooting him looks over his food. After it continued on for a while, he finally shot the older man a dirty look.

"Going to spit it out this century, Bones?" Jim drawled, and Bones actually jerked in his chair before schooling his features into a more typical dry expression, but not before a flash of sheepishness got though. Jim smirked.

"I'm still trying to mentally adjust my view of you, kid; it may take a few more hours." John laughed, before tensing into a series of hacking coughs. Bones tensed in anticipation as Chris pounded on the admiral's back, but after a moment, the older man managed a shaky smile and sat there sipping at his drink.

"I would say something, but I think you already got punished." Jim grinned mischiviously at John, who rolled glassy eyes right back at him. Bones leaned over and smacked him upside the head.

"I didn't say it, you jackass!" It took another five minutes until John could speak again.

* * *

Mid-term exams for the last term of his second year were over, and Jim was enjoying a drink at Crosby's with Bones. The good doctor had clearly had too much to drink already. Jim turned and glanced back towards the bathroom. Crosby leaned towards him from across the bar, his lean frame mirroring Jim's pose.

"Is the doctor alright?" Jim chuckled and nodded, absently waving a hand in Bones' general direction.

"Yeah, he made the mistake of starting on the cheap beer instead of just going to the good stuff." He rolled his eyes, and Crosby quirked a smile.

"It is rather early for a bladder break for him. I'll remember that for next time." His deep voice was always pleasant to listen to, and Jim tipped his head in thanks. A voice called from the other end of the bar, and the older man patted the countertop and headed towards the caller. Jim took the opportunity to stretch, his neck cracking from the effort; when a shadow fell on him from someone taking Bones' vacated seat next to him, he was too busy wincing at the pops his spine was making to notice.

"Did your friend leave?" Jim shook his head without turning towards the speaker as he switched off rotating his arms in a tight circle. He had been lax on his stretches lately.

"He'll be back in a minute, but if you want the seat, we can clear out." Jim finished his stretches and spun his seat to face his new neighbor. As his eyes fell on the gorilla-sized man sitting less than half a meter away from him, his hair greasy and face covered with dust, he felt tension grip the base of his spine. He flashed the man a shaky half-smile as he rotated back to face the bar proper. "We- we were about to head out anyway." Jim's voice fell to a mumble for the last few words, and the man chuckled as Jim felt a meaty hand wrap around his shoulder.

"Don't be like that, kid, I just wanted to talk. You looked lonely." Jim went rigid under the man's grasp, and flashed his eyes in the guy's direction, but didn't turn his head to match.

"Could you let go of me, please?" Instead of complying, the hand tightened, and Jim fought to keep from ripping it off of his shoulder. "Look- look man, I'm doing fine. I need to go see how my friend is doing." That earned him a snort, and Jim was spun in his chair before he could react. The man's expression was no longer friendly, and Jim glanced in Crosby's direction, but the bartender was on the other end of the bar.

"Look, bitch, I'm trying to be friendly here. Where do you get off being a little princess?" The grip was becoming painful, and Jim couldn't summon the resolve to do more than a nervous glance around as the man leaned in, his fetid breath making bile rise to Jim's throat.

"I asked you to let go of me." He couldn't meet the man's eyes. _Where the hell is Bones_? "S-seriously, let go. I've got shit I need to do." Jim could see Crosby had noticed, the older man's face looked concerned as he finished up a drink and pushed it across the table. Jim tried to force his shoulder away, only managing to half-fall out of his chair with the effort.

"What the fuck is your problem, princess? Not used to people actually paying attention to you?" The gorilla was over a head taller than him, and Jim could see him raise his other arm-

"I told you to let me go!" His knee smashed into the bigger man's gut before he even thought about it, and the hand disappeared as the bastard doubled over. Jim staggered back as he recovered, and he barely dodged the left hook that flew his way, falling against the side of the counter.

"Are you fucking crazy, bitch?" Jim didn't move fast enough to avoid the hand that wrapped around his neck and jammed his back into the countertop, and he gasped for air as his fist snapped out and caught the man in the nose. The shriek of pain that ensued was followed by Jim dissolving into a coughing fit, and he heard Bones' voice before he saw him.

"What the hell is going on?" Jim was pulled off the bar by Bones, who gave him a quick glance over before turning to glare at the massive man, who was clutching at his nose futilely, the blood dripping between his fingers. Jim saw Crosby grab a comm unit and punch in a few buttons out of the corner of his eye. Fuck. Jim hated police stations.

"I was just being friendly to your crazy little friend, and I get a fucking knee in my stomach for my trouble. I need to call the fucking cops." Jim closed his eyes against the bullshit explanation, allowing himself to slump against the bar. He could feel Bones tense next to him, and Jim glanced towards Crosby, who had finished his call and moved around to position himself between the two men. His sparse brown hair was impeccable as usual, Jim noted in a daze as he looked at the slender man.

"Anyone else see what happened?" Crosby pursed his lips as he scanned the crowd, and most grumbled denials and slunk back to their seats. Crosby rolled his eyes. "Anyone?" The guy who had been sitting to his right raised a hand, and Crosby fixed his gaze on the rotund fellow that Jim had seen in the bar many times. "What happened, Burl?" Burl pointed at Jim, who focused his gaze on Bones' nape. Bones had a nice neck.

"The kid was minding his own business, and the big guy thought he could get touchy-feely with him. I heard him-" Burl paused, but Jim didn't look up. "tell him at least two or three times to let go, and he didn't like being blown off." Jim could hear Crosby sigh, and he glanced up to see the bastard surge to his feet, his nose still leaking, and snarl.

"Stay out of this, old man! Where's the fucking comm in this dump?" The question was posed to Crosby, who raised his eyebrows and made his way slowly around the bar, only to pause and turn towards the door, relief fresh on his face.

"Good evening, Captain." Jim let his head fall forward as Bones sighed next to him. Crosby hadn't been calling the cops. He didn't know which was worse. He could hear some of the other bar patrons bidding his dad welcome, and he wondered, not for the first time, why he continued patronizing the same bar that Chris always went to.

"Mind if I ask what happened?" Bones relayed what he had seen to Chris, Burl chiming in as well as Jim kept his eyes closed against the whole mess. He had fucked up. He hadn't overreacted like that- ever, so why now? Jim opened his eyes to see Chris talking to the bruiser, who snorted and stomped out of the building seconds later, his blood covered face matted with his already filthy hair, and Jim knew with a jolt of shame why he had acted that way. Chris gestured to the two of them as he nodded to Crosby, and Jim was hustled outside by Bones before he could get his mouth to formulate anything, his arm warm and reassuring around his shoulders. Chris told the taxi driver to head to the Academy, and they all settled back in their seats. Jim kept looking between his dad and Bones, but silence had become the order of the hour, and Jim let his shoulders slump as he rubbed at his neck. He could feel hazel eyes on him, and he raised a hand in dismissal. As the taxi came to a stop at the Academy gates, Chris turned around and addressed Bones.

"Leonard, thank you for your help." Jim watched him shake his head as he got out of the vehicle, before turning back to face Jim. He looked worried, and it was all he could do to not duck his head at the scrutiny. Bones gave him a tight smile before speaking.

"Take care, Jim; I'll talk to you later." He rounded the car and nodded to Chris as he passed, heading through the security gates. Jim watched him until the car turned around and headed off, and then he closed his eyes until the door opened again. The cool air hitting his face spurred him to movement, and he followed Chris into the house. They hadn't said a word to each other since Chris had shown up at the bar, and Jim didn't want to start now. As the front door closed behind them, Jim pivoted on his heel and all but ran up the stairs to his bedroom, ignoring the tired sigh from behind him as he stripped off his jacket and flopped onto his bed, burrowing his face into the pillow. He felt like a fucking infant. Jim didn't look up as the mattress depressed next to his head, and a warm hand found its way into his hair.

"What happened, Jim?" There was no accusation in Chris's voice, which just made Jim feel even worse about the whole damn situation. He shook his head without budging from the pillow.

"Nothin'." The sigh was even deeper this time.

"Last time I checked, you didn't have a habit of kneeing people in the gut for _nothin_'." Chris's voice was filled with equal parts confusion and concern, and Jim forced himself to shift so he could see him.

"He just rubbed me the wrong way. He wouldn't lay off. Obviously I've had too much to drink tonight." Chris raised an eyebrow at his son as he settled his hands in his lap.

"Jim, Crosby told me that you, and I quote, looked like a scared deer being run down by a starship as that idiot hassled you. As much as I hate to admit it, you are a rather experienced bar brawler. You shouldn't be getting the jitters over some random pushy guy without a reason." Jim flinched, and turned on his side away from his dad, who he could feel shift in his seat. "Jim, you completely freaked out on the guy. That's not like you." Chris paused, and Jim tensed slightly as he touched his fingers to the bruises on Jim's neck. "-and you didn't have enough to get you anymore than mildly buzzed, son. That excuse won't work." Jim felt himself curling into a ball, and wished his wings weren't still under the harness so he could hide under them. "Jim, please." Please. Jim hated hearing Chris say that, especially in that tone of voice. He took a shuddering breath and tried to think of something to say that would get him to drop it, but he couldn't get his brain to work.

"Nothing happened."

"Jim-" Chris's hand wrapped around his shoulder, almost in exactly the same spot where the bastard's hand had been, and Jim threw himself off the bed with a shout.

"_I said nothing happened_!" The sudden movement had thrown Chris off balance, falling off the bed with a thump, and Jim staggered back in horror. "Shit- fuck, I'm sorry." Jim reached out a hand, and the older man took it, rising to his feet and guiding them both into sitting on the edge of the bed. Jim gave a half-hearted attempt to pull his hand back, but Chris held it firm. He couldn't stop shaking, and he knew Chris could feel it.

"Jim-" He took a deep breath and looked at his ceiling, scarred from his wings smacking into it too many times, and responded.

"He reminded me of someone. That's all." The hand wrapped around his squeezed gently, and Jim dropped his head level.

"Son, please don't make me have to find out what just happened on my own." Jim swallowed. He would read that damn statement, about how he was pinned down, knocked around, and fondled before pissing the main bastard off enough to make him want to strangle him instead-

"It's ancient history. Don't worry about it." Wrong answer. Chris's jaw clenched, and Jim couldn't even start to form any reply that didn't scream that he was full of shit.

"Obviously it isn't, if you have such a strong reaction. Is this something that happened during your- while you were gone?" Chris replied, turning at the waist to face him fully, and Jim was forced to look him in the eye.

"-yeah." What else could he say? He lied enough in his everyday life, he didn't want to start lying to Chris.

"Might it involve that last, sealed record on your file?" Chris said, his tone dry, yet somehow still concerned. Jim absently wondered how he pulled that off as he sighed again.

"Nothing happened." Chris's other arm snapped up, his fingers wrapping around Jim's forearm and shaking him firmly, startling the younger man.

"Jim, stop it. Something did happen, and it was serious enough to trigger a panic attack. If this had happened on campus, Jim, you'd be looking at being reevaluated for your suitablity in the command track, at the very least. You can't have a Captain who is going to go around freezing up everytime a dirty thug corners him." Chris's voice was stern, and Jim found himself preferring that far more than the alternative. But he had to say something, or Chris would never drop it. Jim looked across the room at his bookshelf, where _the Secret Garden_ sat on its cover on top of the other books.

"I wasn't- some ugly bastards got too close for comfort outside a bar, that's all. The cops showed up before it got out of hand." The sharp inhale from Chris that followed his explanation was one that Jim never wanted to hear again. He decided to keep talking. "They wrecked my saddlebags too. I was just thinking about replacing them when I ran into you." He glanced up at Chris's face. The older man's expression was grave, and his normally tan skin was wan with shock. Jim closed his eyes against the sight. That's why he hadn't wanted to say anything.

"My god...Jim, why didn't you say anything? I could have-" Chris sounded like he wanted to do _something_, but it was clear to Jim that he was unsure _what _that would be. Jim huffed, slouching in his seat and scratched at his chest nervously.

"The whole mess took less time than you take to drink a cup of coffee. It was done. You were dealing with enough shit from me, you didn't need this too." Chris's arms wrapped around his shoulders, and Jim burrowed his face into the soft shirt Chris had thrown on. "You aren't always going to be able to help me, dad. I've gotta learn to handle things on my own. I am twenty-four, you know. I'm not exactly a kid." Chris's hands rubbed at his upper back, soothing circles that took the edge off of his nervousness. Jim could feel him swallow.

"This isn't the kind of thing you can just handle, Jim. If you don't want to talk to me, talk to John. Or Leonard...or even Doctor Phlox. Don't just shut it away." He had been handling it just fine, hell, he hadn't thought about it in years; it was just a fluke. Jim lifted his head from Chris's shoulder, looking up at his dad's lined face. He looked ten years older than he had ten minutes ago, and Jim took a shaking breath against the rising guilt, shaking his head. Chris generally only let down his personal shields for him and John, and it was times like these that Jim hated that he could do that to the man.

"It's not-" Jim sighed and extracted himself from Chris's arms, rising to his feet. "I'm sorry Crosby hauled you out of bed for this. I could have handled it." Chris sighed quietly, then stood up as well, and the two men locked eyes for a long, uncomfortable beat. The older of the two broke his gaze first, walking to the entrance of the bedroom, his stride slow with exhaustion.

"You're right, Jim. You aren't a child anymore." Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a moment before letting his hand drop. "But you are still my son, and I'm always going to worry about you." Jim stripped off his shirt as his dad spoke, and began fiddling with the join of his harness. "Get some rest. I'm sure Leonard is going to be his usual charming self tomorrow when it comes to you, you best be ready." Jim shot Chris a confused look, his nose crinkling as the harness fell away, and some of the tension in the elder's features softened with amusement.

"What the fuck are you on about?" Jim muttered as he stretched his sweaty appendages, and Chris cleared his throat with authority right on cue as he left the bedroom. It was an unlikely trigger, but Jim felt the stresses of the night dive straight for his toes and out. Fuck, he was tired.

"Good night, Jim." The door closed behind Chris, and Jim kicked off the rest of his clothing and got into the shower. He was right, of course; this is the kind of shit that would get Jim kicked out of the command track so fast his head would spin. No one in any serious position of command could afford to entertain such hangups; it was a sign of weakness that was inexcusable at worst, and debilitating at best. Or in other words, it couldn't continue. Chris had every right to report the incident, and Jim would be immediately facing a psych exam if he did. He knew that his dad wouldn't do it this time, but if it happened again- Jim swallowed heavily as the hot water beat into his wings and back. It wouldn't happen again. Even if he had to vent to Phlox about it. Snagging a towel, he dried himself off and put on some clean underwear before diving face-first into his bed. He was asleep within minutes.

When Jim staggered out of his bedroom the next morning and fumbled around for some coffee, Chris marched into the kitchen with his comm, told him that he refused to become a parent of a teenager all over again and to keep track of his own damn communicator, as he wasn't his answering service. Bones was on the other end, as expected, and Jim listened to him bitch about some idiot at the hospital as he stole a cup out of the pot that Chris had just made, triggering a growl from the older man. There was no further mention of the incident at the bar from Chris.

* * *

Jim ended up dancing with Admiral Nogura at his second Military Ball. He wasn't sure if it was intentionally done or not this time around, but he marked it down mentally as quite possibly the six most awkward minutes in his life. The fact that Jearo hadn't been bothering him about it made him think it really _had_ been random this time. Figures. Bones hadn't stopped spontaneously snorting in laughter yet, even though it had been a week since the damn event, so every time someone asked why he was laughing, the whole story got told. Which is why Crosby was chuckling while passing Burl a fresh shot of whiskey, and he was giving Bones the deadliest glare he could level on the man. It wasn't working very well.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop, you big baby. Can't even give an old man some enjoyment." Jim snorted, and took a swig of his beer.

"Old man my ass, Bones- you just turned _thirty_, not eighty. I can hear the captain and the admiral rolling their eyes from here." The older man downed his shot and slid off his stool, meeting Jim's eyes.

"They aren't here, are they?" Bones raised an amused eyebrow as he passed Crosby his credit chip. "This old man needs to go, he has things to do tomorrow. You staying here, Jim? Or do you want to walk an o-" Jim slid off of his own stool and smacked Bones' shoulder to shut him up, earning him a glare.

"Might as well, _kid,_" Jim countered, and even Burl and Crosby laughed at that one. The two men settled their tabs and left, walking back in comfortable silence towards the academy. When they reached the gates, Jim turned to Bones. "What's your big plans for tomorrow?" Bones shook his head in dismissal as he stepped up to the ID reader.

"Just need to get some things done, nothing big." The gate opened, and Bones looked at Jim over his shoulder. "Have a good night, kid. Careful getting home." Jim blushed as the gate closed behind him.

"I'm not a kid, Bones!" he yelled back, but there was no answer. Jim rolled his eyes and hailed a cab.

The next day, Jim slept in, then tried to comm Bones. Then tried again. And again. By the time sixteen-hundred hours rolled around, he had grown tired of recording messages. Pulling on a more proper set of clothes, he caught a taxi to the academy, heading straight for Bones' dormitory as soon as he arrived.

"Hey, Bones, you home?" Jim waited for a moment, but no answer was forthcoming. A knock followed his shout; after his knock went unanswered, Jim plugged in the code for the door, which promptly denied him. He stepped back, glancing to make sure he hadn't accidentally gone to the wrong door, but he hadn't. He had been here hundreds of times. Jim frowned at the offending door. This wasn't like Bones. If he was busy, he usually sent a message imparting that information between the lines of a not-so-finely veiled insult. He didn't just...drop off. Jim knocked one last time, then set about hacking the door lock, smiling when the barricade gave up and slid open. He advanced slowly into the dorm, freezing when the smell hit him.

"Bones?"

"Fuck off." Jim's eyes adjusted quickly to the dark room, and he spotted Bones sitting on the edge of his bed, drinking straight from a bottle of Jack, the tumbler he appeared to have been previously using was tipped over onto the carpet, whiskey soaking into the floor. That explained the smell. He walked a few steps into the room, only to be stopped by the scratchy voice of the older man.

"I told you to leave, Jim."

"Bones, what's wrong? This isn't-"

"-like me?" Bones sneered, a cold look that didn't fit on his features well. "Tells you what you know." Jim walked a step closer, concern overcoming any irritation.

"Bones, just tell me," Jim said quietly, trying to be soothing; instead, Bones snarled and took another swig from the bottle.

"I told you to fucking leave, brat." Jim stiffened, but swallowed most of the anger that was bubbling up into his chest. He walked to the end of the bed and glared at the red-eyed man as he took another drink.

"I just want to help, asshole. Give me the damn bottle, you're going to give yourself alcohol poisoning." He reached towards the whiskey, only to watch Bones stagger to his feet, bottle still clenched in his hand. "Bones-"

"I told you to leave!" The tumbler hit the wall behind him before he even realized what happened, glass raining down onto his hair and shoulders; Jim raised a shaky hand up to his cheek, lifting blood-touched fingers away from his face as he looked up to see Bones drop the bottle of Jack, horror obliterating the anger that had been twisting his features. Jim avoided the rest of the glass as he backed up to the door, his mouth trying to formulate a response, but he couldn't get his thoughts together. His mother hadn't even connected when she had thrown a glass at him during his last visit. Bones took a few shaky steps towards him, his face paler than a corpse, but Jim's patience was at an end.

"Jim- god-" The cut on his cheek was beginning to sting, and sudden blinding fury opened Jim's mouth.

"Fuck you, McCoy." The door hissed closed behind him, and Jim didn't look back once as he stormed off campus. He ducked into a public restroom and cleaned off his face. It wasn't serious, but a few centimeters higher, and he would have been looking into replacement eyes. He didn't know what the hell the man's problem was, and he wasn't in the mood to worry about it anymore. The fucker can enjoy his goddamned booze. Jim left the bathroom and leaned against the wall of the building, watching the people walk by while he figured out what to do. Gaila had told him about a new club that had opened downtown near Union Square a few weeks back. That sounded like a good place to forget about things.

The club was fantastic, and he was able to mostly forget certain assholes who needed to get their shit together as he alternated between the bar and the dance floor, talking with anyone who approached him. But they kept playing music that Bones loved to insult, insults which Jim usually enjoyed as much the venue itself, and he just found himself getting really depressed instead. A young man with brilliant blue hair that caught the flashing lights of the dance floor kept dancing near him, his pale skin covered in a shimmering body glitter that kept drawing Jim's gaze; before he could even try to get the guy's name, he was pressed against one of the walls of the club with the guy's tongue down his throat and a hand working its way down his front. His skin started to flush, his body tingling with a heady feeling as he took a deep gasping breath, the other man releasing his lips and kissing along his jaw as his hand found the front of Jim's jeans, popping them open. Jim immediate tensed, his hand snapping down to wrap around the other man's wrist.

"Clothes stay on." He shot the man a charming smile, but the moment was broken; Jim's hand was left coated with body glitter as the man wrenched his wrist away and shoved him hard into the wall with a snarl, his head bouncing unpleasantly against the concrete.

"Fucking cocktease!" The man's blue hair fluttered impressively as he spun on his heel and stalked off, leaving Jim to catch his breath and ignore the bruise that was blossoming at the back of his skull as he re-buttoned his pants, not bothering to look away from the curious gazes he was getting. This was not going down as a good day. He flinched when a hand worked its way into his hair, feeling at the back of his head; before he could pull away, a green finger came into view, tracing the cut on his cheek.

"What happened, Jim?" Gaila's curious face came into view, and Jim relaxed with a sigh. "I was surprised to see that it was you with that guy; you usually aren't going for hookups when you are out." She paused, then poked at his cheek. "Where did you get this?" Jim frowned, pulling away from her and walking towards an empty table as the Orion gave a disgusted groan and followed. She fell into the booth next to him, her sharp eyes fixed on his own. "Where's your doctor?" She looked concerned for some reason, which made the irritation come back in full force.

"I don't give a shit what that bastard is doing," he grumbled, earning him sharp fingernails wrapping around his chin as she forced his face towards hers, her expression set in a disapproving frown.

"What happened, Jim? Don't start throwing your troubles onto those who don't deserve it." He jerked away from her grip with a defiant snort, letting his head fall into his arms. Gaila sighed, and he sagged when her fingers returned to his scalp. "That blue-haired idiot didn't give you that cut." Trust Gaila to get to the heart of the matter; he lifted his head back up and looked into her expectant features.

"Bones threw a goddamned tumbler at my head in his dorm room." The Orion woman inhaled in shock, and Jim felt the illogical urge to defend the man's actions for a split second before his brain caught up. "He was fine last night, but I tried calling him this afternoon, but he never responded. After trying for hours, I went over to his room." Concern started inching into the back of his mind, but he disregarded it as he spoke. "He wouldn't answer the door, he had changed his code- so I hacked into the room to make sure everything was fine." Gaila rolled her eyes at the mention of hacking, but stayed quiet. "He was sitting on his bed drinking Jack straight out of the bottle, he had already dropped and spilled a tumbler by the time I had gotten there. I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he kept telling me to get out. When I tried to get the bottle away from him, he picked up and chucked the glass at me. I left right after." The green-skinned woman's expression had gone grim, and Jim shrugged and slumped back in the seat.

"Sounds like something happened." No shit. He looked over at Gaila, who pursed her lips at his expression.

"Yeah, it does," Jim muttered, scratching at his nose as his seatmate groaned and poked at his injured cheek. His attempt to swat her hand away failed miserably as she grabbed his hand and looked him in the eye.

"You need to go back, Jim. He could hurt himself." She was right, of course, but Jim didn't know if he was prepared to get rid of his cultivating anger just yet. Even if it felt increasingly childish.

"I-" He was amazed he still had eyebrows after the heated glare Gaila cut him off with.

"If you say you don't care, I'm going to hurt you." Or stab an exceptionally sharp fingernail up his nose, by the look of it. Jim looked at her, completely at a loss.

"He- fuck. I'd never seen him like that before." It had spooked him, and like he did with a lot of other emotionally-charged situations, he had run away. He let his head fall back into the cradle of his arms again, and Gaila's warm fingers resumed combing through his hair.

"Jim-"

"Alright alright. I'll go. I'm blaming you if I lose an eye." Jim's words were muffled, but the pat he received told him that she had understood him perfectly. Gaila waved and blew a kiss to a group of people he didn't recognize, and he was inordinately amused by the jealous looks they all shot him. That was an assumption that he didn't mind people making. It was better than being hooked up with his own dad, at any rate.

"I'll walk with you back to campus. I promised my dear roommate that I would help her out with packing." They left the club together, saying little as they entered the academy grounds and steered towards the dorms. When they reached Bones' building, Gaila nudged him with her shoulder. "Do you want me to come up with you?" He seriously considered it for a moment, but dismissed it just as quickly. No one else needed to see Bones like that.

"No, I'll be fine." Approval was in her features as she patted his uninjured cheek.

"Comm me if you need anything." He nodded, and Gaila walked off, leaving him to stare up at Bones' window. He gave up too damn easy earlier, he should have stayed- Worry clenched his insides, and Jim ran up the stairs to Bones' floor. If he had continued drinking- He reached the older cadet's door, and began to pound on it.

"Bones, you okay?" No answer, and Jim tried his number before hacking the door open yet _again, _bursting into the room without pretense. "Bones?" The glass was still on the floor, and anxiety gripped him when he didn't see the older man anywhere. "_Bones_!" A groan stopped him cold, and Jim pushed the partially ajar bathroom door open to find his friend on the floor unconscious, and he immediately dropped to his knees. "Bones, you didn't party hard enough to deserve to pass out in the bathroom. Come on." It took a moment, but he managed to get enough of a grip on the bigger man to haul him up and drag him back into the main room, dumping him onto the bed. It took some pulling and prodding, but he finally got the covers over the moaning mess that made up Bones at the moment, and he looked him over quickly before deciding that he wouldn't need to get him to the clinic. Bones was going to feel like shit in the morning, but he didn't look like he had any other signs of possible dangerous overindulgence. Jim ran a hand through the man's hair until the strands fell in something closer to their usual pattern. Bones was going to tell him what the fuck had happened tomorrow. He didn't care how hungover the man was, he deserved that much after taking a tumbler to the face. Jim set about cleaning up the room, disposing of the glass, as well as scrubbing and sanitizing the where the vomit had dotted a few spots on the carpet. After he was done, he checked Bones one last time before grabbing a blanket out of the closet and curling up on the sofa.

The tingling sensation across his cheekbone brought him back to himself, and he swatted randomly as he grunted and opened his eyes. Bones was kneeling by the side of the sofa, running his dermal regenerator over the cut he had helped create the day before, guilt plain on his still-wan features. His lips set in a grim line when he realized that Jim was awake, but finished his work before rising to his feet.

"Jim-" Bones trailed off as Jim rose to a sitting position on the sofa, then glared up at him.

"Are you feeling better, asshole?" The eyebrow automatically shot up, but just as quickly deflated as Bones sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry, Jim. That was inexcusable what I did yesterday." He met Bones' eyes for a long moment before speaking.

"Tell me what happened," Jim said bluntly, and the older man tensed. "You owe me that much after using me for target practice." Bones grimaced, dropping his head to look at his feet. Jim waited patiently until he sighed and looked back up, swallowing heavily.

"-remember how I was supposed to go visit Joanna in about a month?" Jim nodded slowly, and Bones sighed. "Jocelyn informed me yesterday after I was done talking to Jo that they were going off-planet for the rest of the summer with her fiancee. Went on about wanting Jo to get used to him, since I wasn't going to be able to visit with any regularity much longer. Said some shit about wanting me to detach with love, tried to tell me to stop calling. She may have custody, but I have the right to talk to my little girl!" Jim tensed as Bones' voice raised in volume as he spoke, until the other man took one look at him and sagged. "So- yeah. You came about two hours after she hung up on me, I think. I don't remember a lot until I- hit you with the glass." Jim closed his eyes with a wince. He shouldn't have left. It wasn't like he hadn't had far worse in any of his bar brawls, but Bones...was different.

"That's a fucking load of shit, Bones. No wonder you were so angry." He put his arm around the older man's shoulders, leading Bones to boggle at him before frowning.

"It still isn't an excuse. Fuck, Jim, I could have put your eye out." Jim almost crossed his eyes when Bones' left hand came up to feel at the now-healed spot on his face, the sensation of the callus at the base of his thumb rubbing across his cheekbone making his stomach prepare hastily for a sudden influx of butterflies. He forced down his nerves and met his friend's eyes.

"This isn't normal for you. I know it isn't, or I would have noticed sooner." Bones' hand slipped from his face and dropped onto his shoulder. "Have you done this before?" The other man blinked, but shook his head firmly.

"I've thrown some things when no one was around before, but _never_ at anyone." Jim nodded, reaching up and taking Bones' hand in his own.

"Then I got to be the lucky audience to what was hopefully a one-time show," Jim said, squeezing the older man's hand and releasing it. Bones' eyes had a suspicious shine in them for a moment before he blinked heavily, nodding his head at the same time.

"Damn straight." Jim nodded in confirmation, then hopped to his feet.

"Well, now that we have that cleared up, what do we do about your ex?" Bones' eyebrows shot up his forehead, and he grinned down at the surprised man. "There's got to be something that I can help you with."

"Damn it, kid," Bones said gruffly, but the appreciation was clear on his face. Jim chuckled as the older man rose to his feet, giving him a light cuff to the side of the head and tilting his head towards the door. "Let's get you breakfast." If the butterflies did a small reemergence when Bones wrapped a hand around his forearm to steer him towards an off-campus cafe, he completely disregarded them.

* * *

It was quite possibly the most amazing experience he had ever had. The orbital skydiving mini-course was optional, but it was recommended for all cadets on the Command track and those doing a Security focus. Jim knew it would look good on his record, so he signed up for it; the temptation of seeing how it compared to his personal experiences of flight was also too much to resist. The suits were made to be put on quickly in case of emergency, and he was thusly allowed to keep most of his uniform on, which was also a good thing as they had to provide him with one that would accommodate his back. He was pretty sure they stuffed him the same one they had given Cupcake, the shoulders far too wide and legs and arms far too long for him, but the clothing layers helped.

It had been frightening to consider that he would be jumping with his wings out of commission, but he knew that, realistically, that was the only way. Not because of the secrecy, but because of the fact that the force would rip them off in seconds at the altitude, if they weren't already destroyed by entering the atmosphere. Which they would be. Jim was pretty sure that among his gifts, surviving temperatures of over a thousand Celsius wasn't among them. Jearo was with his jump group, but the man kept his mouth shut for once as they boarded the shuttle and ascended to the appropriate height. He barely heard the pilot wish them good luck over the short burst of adrenaline, and before he could blink, they were plummeting to Earth.

The jump went perfectly. The only thing that had made him marginally nervous was the reminder of that he had to pull a chute instead of spreading his wings; the concept of going into lazy spirals near the end to slow descent was the same, however, and he was standing on the dirt in between Teakettle Junction and the Racetrack in no time at all. His jump-mates landed around him as he stretched, grinning from ear to ear. It was unfortunate that only third and fourth year cadets could sign up for the course, or Jim would have done it in the first term. What he hadn't expected when he went in the next day to hear the results of the test was to be pulled aside after everyone who passed, which included him, was congratulated, and told that although he had probably was the best jumper they had tested in years, they wanted him to speak with someone at Starfleet Medical. They wouldn't tell him the reason why, despite his attempts, and Jim had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something he would regret.

So an hour after leaving the meeting, Jim found himself walking the halls of Starfleet Medical, then being shuffled promptly into a room after announcing himself to the unit secretary. Jim flopped into a chair and let his head fall back as he waited. He was honestly stumped. The jump had been amazing, hell, they told him he had done about as flawlessly as a person could do at it, so why was he here? At the sound of noise outside the door, he lifted his head back up, just in time for the door to open and Bones to walk in. If this had been any other time, he would have laughed his ass off at the look on his friend's face, but he wasn't in the mood.

"Hey, Bones." The older man scowled, looking between him and the PADD he was holding before walking around and sitting in the chair opposite.

"I really need to read the names on these before going in the rooms," Bones grumbled to himself, and Jim felt a smile come onto his face. Before he could speak, the older man met his eyes with a serious expression. "Jim, do you want someone else to go over this with you? It's perfectly understandable and acceptable, considering our existing relationship." Jim smiled a little wider for a moment at Bones' choice of wording, before the situation reasserted itself in his mind and he shrugged.

"Honestly, Bones, I have no idea why I'm here. They wouldn't tell me. I don't mind if it's you-" Jim trailed off, and Bones looked at him expectantly. "-is this an official psych session? Or are we just talking?" The other man glanced back down at his PADD.

"This is a preliminary talk at this point. Depending on my recommendations, this will either be it, or you'll come back for an official session." Jim blinked, and Bones raised an eyebrow.

"If you are fine with it, I'd rather talk to you." The doctor nodded, looking at his PADD for a moment before speaking.

"The instructors monitoring and analyzing the data from your orbital jump two days ago were a bit...concerned with some of your reactions." He opened his mouth to protest, but Bones lifted a hand. "According to said data, you might as well have been taking a leisurely stroll through Golden Gate Park, considering the pace your heart had set itself. The only spike anywhere near normal levels for this sort of activity was around the time you pulled your chute." Jim's jaw dropped.

"Wait a minute, are you saying that they referred me to talk to someone because I was too fucking _calm_ during the jump? What kind of shit is this?" Jim sputtered, and Bones leaned back in his seat with a sigh.

"Jim, almost every known species has a natural fear of falling, and even in a trained individual, there is an expected level of bodily response to the stimulus of plummeting thousands of meters, chute or no chute. You exhibited almost none of that. According to my information, you maintained a remarkable regular breathing pattern, and the only sound you made outside of the calm reporting of your current altitude was a short mutter reminding yourself when to open your parachute." Bones looked concerned, and Jim was still trying to figure out what the problem was.

"I'm not suicidal, Bones, if that's what this is about." The older man's eyes widened for a moment, before shaking his head.

"That's one of the things I'm expected to rule out here, but no, I know damn good and well you aren't suicidal. An idiot, yes; but not suicidal." Jim glowered.

"Thank you. I think." Bones snorted.

"Anytime, kid. No, that's not it. They wanted me to make sure you had fear responses at all." Bones shook his head as Jim opened his mouth. "A total lack of fear can be indicative of multiple mental disorders, and it carries a much higher risk of dangerously impulsive behavior across the board, something that is obviously considered undesirable in a command position. Ability to control your fear is a trait required in this line of work, but to not have it at all-" The older man's eyes softened, and Jim instantly felt much of his tension vanish. He didn't want to think about why the man had such influence over him, especially not at this moment. "I know you have fear responses, Jim, hell, I've seen them in action before. You really don't have any fear of heights, do you?" He shook his head before he even thought about it. Of course he had no fear of heights, it came with the territory; Jim squashed down the urge to just strip off his shirt and harness. Not yet. He would tell Bones soon, but...not yet. The doctor was staring at him with a thoughtful expression, and he fought the urge to squirm. "Jim-" Bones sighed. "-your lack of fear of heights is obviously joined by a complete lack of fear of flying and falling as well. All a bit...unusual, but nothing to warrant any further discussion." The tired looking man entered something into the PADD, and glanced back up. "All those years climbing the cliffs near your house probably helped. That's all for today, Jim. You won't need to come back here." Jim let out a relieved sigh, sinking back into the cushions of the chair; Bones raised an eyebrow in amusement as he rose to his feet. "Off the record, have you eaten today, Jim? I don't like the way you look." Jim shot his friend an insulted look as he pulled himself out of the chair, stretching his neck.

"I had to get to the results meeting, I didn't have time for breakfast," Jim said, and Bones reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him in front of him and marching them both out the door.

"You look like you are going to pass out. Out you get, get yourself something _healthy_, Jim. None of that greasy diner food you seem to enjoy so much." Jim scoffed, and spun around to reply, only to be forced to grab the closest thing to keep from falling from the dizziness that snapped through his system. Bones took one look at the hand on his shoulder before rolling his eyes and dragging Jim down the hallway, grumbling under his breath. "I told you, you idiot, but you never listen- how in the hell did I get tangled up with a crazy kid with an even crazier family who somehow manages to achieve some form of crazy zen when falling from a fucking shuttle through the goddamned atmosphere-"

"Bones, I'm right here."

"-who then forgets to eat for the next day, and he wonders why he's getting dizzy-"

"Booooones."

"-and who I am damn well aware is right next to me!" Bones hissed into his ear as he pulled him into the hospital cafeteria, forcing him into a chair before stalking off towards the food counter, promptly returning with a tray of what looked like grilled chicken sandwiches and cut fruit. "Eat, Jim." Jim pouted at his friend for a moment before grabbing one of the sandwiches and tucking in.

"Don't you have work you need to be doing?" Jim mumbled spitefully through bites, and Bones grimaced at the sight, before giving him a evil little smile.

"Nope, you were the last one for today. I'm just following up to make sure you don't pass out on the way home. I would prefer to not have to explain things to certain people." Never mind all the other problems that would immediately arise from that. Jim settled for giving Bones a dull look while he inhaled his food.

"Figures."

* * *

Gaila was an amazing woman. Jim had decided this within minutes of meeting her, and over two years of acquaintance had only strengthened that belief. She treated him like a normal person, like Bones, and had been the key to much of the campus social life, unlike Bones. The fact that she regularly flirted with him, and actually appeared to mean it, was something that never got old. As he found himself lounging on her bed in her dorm, discussing classwork and keeping up a solid stream of verbal foreplay, Jim wondered absently what she would think of wings. The thought actually startled him out of a rather complicated explanation of a Class E shuttle warp matrix, causing Gaila to shoot him a confused look.

"Are you well, Jim?" He fumbled for a response, anything that wouldn't make him sound like an idiot, but he soon realized that it was hopeless.

"Sorry, Gaila, just got distracted for a moment. I'll start over." He paused and looked down at the PADD in front of him, trying to figure out where to begin, when a shadow fell over the screen. Jim looked up to see that the Orion woman had moved very far into his personal space, and automatically began to shift away. Gaila sighed and wrapped her arms around him, back and all, and he froze.

"Jim, Jim, Jim." The look in her eyes was wistful, and Jim found himself staring as a hand came up and stroked his cheek. "You are so very beautiful, yet you never allow anyone to see you. Always drawing back, never getting too close-" Her hand, soft save a few calluses on the fingertips ran over his features, the smell of saffron from her perfume strong in his nostrils. Jim could barely breathe, let alone speak, and she smiled. "-only that doctor of yours knows anything about you, and you hide even from him." He managed to recoup enough brain cells to protest, but he was silenced by her thumb running gently over his lips. "Life is very lonely when you veil yourself in a robe constructed from secrets and insecurities, Jim." Her last few words were barely audible, but she was so close that he could hear them as if she was shouting. He was just considering trying to speak when she closed the gap between their faces.

Gaila's lips were soft, and it was far from his first kiss; something about her made him crumble, his own mouth responding from rusty instinct as she moved against him with purpose. After what felt like both no time at all and an eternity, he was forced to pull back for air, and Gaila responded by nipping at his neck and sliding her leg between his. The moan that erupted from his throat brought the situation home with a bang, and Jim threw himself from his friend's bed, his chest heaving in both arousal and fear. Gaila had been momentarily stunned by his sudden departure from her side, but rose from the bed and faced him, moisture in her eyes. He felt like the biggest asshole on the planet.

"Gaila- I can't. I'm really, really sorry...I just- maybe another time." The moisture had gathered into actual tears, and Jim grabbed his PADD off the carpet and stumbled back, ready to flee the room. "I know I'm an asshole, Gaila- please don't cry." Jim let the last three words out in a defeated whisper, Gaila responding with what sounded like a choked sob; but when her hands came up and cradled his jaw, it was not anger he saw in her features.

"Jim, I'm not mad at you, you silly human. I'm mad about your situation, about your fear of others; but never at you. I wish I had known you when you were younger, I would not have let such ideas that you now harbor dig into your head." Jim boggled at Gaila's words, his head shaking in denial automatically. It wasn't like that; it wasn't based on a fear of people, he just wanted his privacy, didn't want people to treat him like...like a freak. Too late. Jim closed his eyes as Gaila's forehead came to rest against his. She was right, in a way; not in the way and context she thought, but right nonetheless. She thought it was from years of discrimination and ostracizing, when it was actually from him going out of his way to make sure people didn't get too close. He had fucked that resolution up solidly since he had joined Starfleet, now with Bones and Gaila in the picture...god, he was tired of secrets. Jim tilted his head up and gave Gaila a kiss on the forehead, bidding her good night before leaving her quarters in a cloud of regrets. He didn't even acknowledge Uhura as she passed him in the hall.

He spent the night in Golden Gate Park, perched high in the branches of an old Tasmanian Blue Gum; the cool breeze coming off the ocean tempting to his restrained wings as he tried to sleep. The world felt like it was closing in on him, and he didn't want any part of it for awhile. Shifting his feet on the branch, Jim let his head dip forward as he closed his eyes.

"Jim! Jim, are you out here?" He awoke with a start to a very familiar voice coming from the ground far below, and he rocked jarringly on his perch for a moment before managing to stabilize himself against the tree trunk. The morning sun was actually winning in the usual battle with the fog, and Jim had an unobstructed view to the park floor. "Jim!" Bones came into view, grumbling loudly in-between yells, and Jim had no clue how he knew he was there.

"Bones?" He didn't say it loud, but the older man froze, peering up through squinted eyes towards Jim; Jim could see the moment he was spotted, as Bones' eyes widened comically and his eyebrows shot up his forehead. Before the man could start ranting to everyone within a three kilometer radius, he grabbed his bag and leapt from his branch, working his way down several more before landing in a crouch on the ground. Bones' jaw was working, but nothing was coming out; Jim took the lull to brush off his uniform and shoulder his bag properly before facing his gaping friend. "You alright there, Bones?" Bones' fists were clenching and unclenching, and Jim took a step back automatically, but kept a welcoming smile on his face. His friend's eyes flashed with guilt for a moment, before carefully opening his hands and taking a deep breath.

"Jim. Would you care to explain to me why I was dragged out of bed at shit-o-clock this morning by a panicking Gaila going on about how she had scared you off and how you left your comm at her dorm so she couldn't call and apologize, and when I called Chris to talk to you I was informed that you hadn't come home last night, so he assumed you crashed at my place, so I had to promise _both_ of them that I would go look for you, and the only reason I had an idea of where the hell you were is that one of the medics swore he saw you climbing a tree around this area last night after a bender and I just _happened_ to run into him as I was leaving campus?" Jim was pretty sure Bones hadn't paused for breath once during that entire speech. In fact, he was pretty sure that he had never heard Bones say so much at one time. The older man's shoulders sagged, and Jim lowered his eyes to the ground.

"I just needed some time to think, Bones; I didn't think that Gaila was going to flip out." He looked up enough to see Bones rub at his eyes and sigh, and he scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry I somehow fucked up your morning, Bones. I'll go talk to Dad and Gaila, go ahead and go back to bed." Bones snorted and shook his head as he walked up to Jim, stopping so close that their noses were almost touching; Jim flushed in surprise but managed to keep himself from moving.

"Jim, what happened with Gaila?" Bones' breath smelled like that cinnamon toothpaste he always used as it brushed against Jim's face, and it took more effort than he ever would have expected to meet the older man's eyes. "She came to my dorm ranting about how she had practically assaulted you, Jim; the woman has a massive propensity for exaggeration, but she was hysterical enough for me not to completely discount her." He closed the distance between them, pressing his forehead to Jim's; Jim waited for the panic to appear like it did with Gaila.

"It was just a misunderstanding. She's blowing things way out of proportion," Jim mumbled, trying not to focus on his friend's lips. The last thing he needed was a repeat of last night.

"You could stop anytime with the need to give me minor heart attacks, you idiot," Bones muttered, wrapping his arms around Jim's shoulders and drawing him into an embrace. Jim's arms twitched in confusion for a moment before he wrapped them around his friend's broad back, letting his head fall to Bones' shoulder. It had been a long time since he had done this. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with you, kid." He could feel the sigh reverberate through the man's body as a hand worked its way into his hair, stroking soothingly at his scalp. He was still waiting on that panic. Bones turned his head in, and he felt the press of what could only be lips to the side of his head before those strong arms gave one last squeeze and released, the older man taking a few steps back, reaching into a pocket and pulling out Jim's comm. "Stop leaving it everywhere, Jim." Jim caught it on the toss and shoved it into his own pocket, giving Bones a sheepish smile.

"You're a lifesaver as usual, Bones," Jim said, an apologetic smile on his face; Bones snorted, but the effect was spoiled by the soft look in his eyes as they began to walk.

"Someone has to be, with you scaling mountains, falling from space, and climbing forty meter tall trees, I'm amazed that you haven't ended up in the hospital a hundred times over by this point." Jim scoffed.

"I'm just that awesome, old man." The aforementioned old man fell silent, a considering look on his features, and Jim felt an odd tension fall between them. He didn't want to face Gaila this morning, but he owed her that much after running out on her last night. Chris was just going to tell him to stop forgetting his communicator everywhere. Bones still hadn't spoken, although he glanced over at Jim every so often with that expression that he just couldn't put a finger on, the one calmed him no matter what the circumstances around it. He almost wanted to bring Bones with him just so he'd feel better about talking to Gaila, but that was a box of tribbles that he didn't want to open. They split shortly after entering the academy grounds, Bones rushing off to his shift at Starfleet Medical, while he met up with his favorite Orion. Gaila threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his back and squeezing as she apologized profusely for pushing him the night before. Jim could see the eyes of passing cadets turning towards the scene, but he disregarded them, keeping his attention on his friend. Let them say what they want, he didn't care. Gaila kept up her stranglehold on his torso regardless of the amount of times he told her that it was alright, that he was honestly flattered, he just couldn't be in a relationship right now; it finally reached the point that he was pretty sure she was going to crack something if she didn't let up, and he allowed the pain to flash over his features. His wince did the trick, and the green-skinned woman looked aghast at herself as she jumped away from him.

"I just keep messing things up, Jim. I'm sorry." Jim flexed his back as much as he could pull off while shaking his head, luckily, the ache began to subside.

"Gaila, stop. It's alright, you didn't do anything wrong." He flashed her a wide grin, and Gaila's disturbed expression mellowed. "Just try to not break my back in the future, it's kinda sensitive," Jim said with a wink, and he laughed when she blushed an amazing shade of verdant green. He saw a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye, and twisted his head to see Uhura, Gaila's rather austere roommate taking in the whole scene; Jim felt his eyebrows work their way up his forehead. "Something you need, Uhura?" She shrugged gracefully as she glanced between the two of them.

"I was a bit concerned after how she was acting last night, but I'm glad to see that you two have straightened things out." Jim answered with a slight nod of his head, and Gaila gave a nervous giggle as she moved to Uhura's side.

"See you later then, Jim?" He gave her a dramatic bow in reply, leading to a disgusted snort from the human half of the two women. It never got old.

"Of course, milady." He could feel Uhura's gaze on him as he walked away, but he didn't rise to the bait. It was time to go home and get the _look_ from his dad. He needed a shower and a change of clothes.

* * *

The Kobayashi Maru sucked. Jim would be damned before he let a computer program beat him, however, and Bones had gotten the brunt of his constant studying and theorizing over the test for over a month now. Although his dad wasn't one of the proctors or administrators on the test, he was still far enough in the loop where Jim knew he do little more than bring it up around the man. Gaila was one of the cadets assigned to the monitoring and coding of the thing, so she was out; he didn't hang out with either of the Lennox siblings or Madeline enough to inflict himself on them for a concentrated period of time. So if he wanted company, his choices had been pretty simple. He almost felt sorry for Bones after he passed out on his couch at least a dozen times over a four week period, but then the man would drag him out and force him to stop studying through the fine art of bitching about his health and the lack of it. Afterwards, Jim didn't feel bad about drinking all of Bones' beer. He may have done it a few times or six. When the scheduled day came around, Bones made sure they both ate a real breakfast as Jim reviewed the dossier one last time. He had been allowed to choose his "crew" for the exercise, and Bones was going to be one of his helmsmen, with Uhura as his communications officer and Madeline on operations. He was as ready as he could get for the thing.

Then he actually took the damn test. As the Kobayashi Maru went down with all hands, he stiffly thanked his "crew" for their effort before turning on his heel and leaving the building in silence. He had almost reached the front gates when he heard footsteps come up swiftly behind him, their cadence revealing exactly who they belonged to. Jim slowed automatically, but didn't turn around.

"I'm not really in the mood, Bones." A large hand wrapped around his arm, grinding him to a sudden halt. Jim tried to jerk away, but Bones' grip was too strong; he settled for dragging him along as he exited the gates. It didn't work very well, considering the older man had over twenty kilos on him. "Fuck off, Bones."

"No." That stopped him, anger shooting through him for a moment before he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as he let out a tired sigh.

"Bones-" The hand around his arm pulled at him until he was facing the older man, and Jim let his head drop as he looked at the ground. "-can't I just have a little time to myself?" He could feel Bones' breath against his scalp, and he closed his eyes against the sensation.

"Are you going to find that time at the top of some unstable surface?" He could feel the grumbling in his friend's voice against his hair, and a little smile worked its way against his will onto his face as he lifted his head and met his eyes.

"Probably." Bones sighed, but released his arm without further comment. Jim looked at the man in mild shock.

"At least tell me where you are going to go this time." Bones raised an eyebrow. "Back to that tree in the park?" He honestly hadn't decided, but that place was just as good as any other. He nodded, and Bones glanced down at his hip. "Do you have your communicator with you?" Jim's lips twisted as he tried to suppress a chuckle.

"You aren't my mother, asshole." The shadow that had been in those hazel eyes seemed to lift, and Bones let out a exaggerated snort as he folded his arms.

"Thank god for that." Jim gave his friend a joking salute, and turned to leave. "If I haven't heard from you by dinner, I'm coming to get you. The last thing you need to be doing is skipping meals _again_." This was an old argument, and it didn't deserve a real answer.

"Yes, _dear_."

It took a little more maneuvering to get into the tree during the day, as he didn't want to get kicked out of the park because some busybody ratted him out to the caretakers, but he managed it, scaling the spaced branches until he reached the shaded alcove he had enjoyed before. Settling into his usual crouch, he let the events of the test run through his head. He knew that no one passed it, knew that it was supposed to demonstrate a commander's ability to remain calm in the worst of situations, but it was shit. Absolute shit. The stricken look that had flashed over Bones' face when the simulated ship was destroyed had made his insides twist painfully; even though they all knew is was a simulation, it was real enough to them. The idea that there was no possible way to beat the damn thing didn't sit right with him. There were difficult situations and there were improbable situations, but he refused to agree that there was a truly impossible situation; the so-called no-win scenario. Most would have called what his father had done some twenty-five years ago the very proof of its existence, but he had turned what would have been a complete and bloody rout into a triumph of spirit, pulling victory of a sort out of what would have sheer tragedy. Chris had used the example of his father to spur him out of his apathy, and looking back, he was one-hundred percent glad that he had. It was a compelling creed to adopt, but he knew he needed to take it more to heart in his personal life, not just his professional. He wouldn't be able to dodge the advances of people like Gaila and Bones forever, romantic or not, and...there was a growing part of him that no longer wanted to. The strain of the morning caught up in a rush, and Jim let his eyes drift closed. A short nap wouldn't hurt anything.

"Jim, get your crazy ass down here! It's almost nineteen-hundred!" Startled, he swayed dangerously on the branch, and for the first time in a _very_ long time, he actually lost his balance. The only thought that broke through as his world tipped sharply was that he really needed to stop waking up like this.

"Fuck!" He scrambled for a handhold as he fell backwards, missing the branch he had been on and falling; he felt something glance his cheek just as his hand found painful purchase about four meters down, but it was good enough. Why was it always the face? He swung his other hand up and hung for a moment as he figured out his strategy for descent.

"Christ, Jim, are you okay? Shit, I knew this was going to happen someday-" Bones was never going to shut up about it now. Jim frowned and ignored the ranting coming from below as he found his route, ignoring the twinge in his wrist as he worked his way down.

"Bones, I'm fine. Relax." He grumbled right back as he dead ended at a branch about three meters off the ground. Hooking his knees around the branch, he allowed himself to dangle upside-down, his gaze falling on the clearly concerned face of his friend. "Really. You just startled me, nothing that hasn't happened before." Bones approached, his eyes scanning Jim's swinging form before he lifted a hand to Jim's face, tracing the side of his cheek with a gentle touch; Jim couldn't restrain a shudder as he looked into his friend's eyes, which were darker than he had ever seen them.

"Is that why you have a cut here?" Bones murmured, and Jim mentally cursed his choice to hang from the branch as he watched the older man's lips from eye-level.

"Ha- happens all the time." Bones' fingers had yet to leave his face, and he could feel his cheeks grow hot from the attention. He really should get down.

"Why do I have the feeling that I'm going to spend the rest of my life always looking up to find you." It was not a question, and Jim couldn't think of a damn thing to say, but the accuracy of the statement was jarring. Bones' lips formed into a wistful smile as he tilted his head up and brushed his mouth against Jim's, causing him to almost fall the rest of the way out of the tree. His mouth opened automatically, but the kiss stayed relatively chaste; he could taste that cinnamon toothpaste on Bones' lips, feel their smoothness- As first kisses went, it was the most sedate one he had ever gotten, but his head was spinning and Bones' neck was amazing and he didn't know what to say- "Jim, come on down. You need to eat something." Bones' voice was soft as he backed away, and Jim swung himself up, grabbed onto the branch, and dropped to the ground.

"Bones-" The soft look was still in the older man's eyes, but it hardened a bit when his gaze dropped to Jim's wrist.

"Don't tell me you strained that," Bones muttered, reaching out and lifting up the offending arm without pretense. The wrist was written off with a huff, but the consummate doctor took one look at the palm of his hand and grimaced. "We need to get you cleaned up before this gets infected." Bones released his arm, and began to walk; Jim stared at his back for what felt like a lifetime before he followed, running for a moment to catch up with the other man.

"Bones, what-"

"How did the thinking go?" Jim looked over at Bones, still dazed. The other man was looking straight ahead, muscles shifting under the red uniform as he moved with purpose, and Jim couldn't fight back a grin any longer. Shuffling in closer, he wrapped his arm around Bones' waist, the man tensing automatically before he lifted his own arm, settling it around Jim's shoulders. He could definitely get used to this. Jim met Bones' eyes and squeezed his waist as he began to speak.

"I'm gonna try the test again." He decided a second later that Bones had a far more advantageous position as the arm around his shoulders worked its way around his neck, pulling his head in until it bonked into the older man's.

"Jim?"

"Yeah?" Jim squeaked in reply, leading to an dark smirk from Bones.

"If you use that damn test as an excuse to drink all of my booze one more time, I have a nice hypospray with some rare STDs I can and will gleefully introduce you to."

"Hey, that's not-" Bones pulled him until their cheeks were pressed together.

"Did you know that the Markalian Plague causes the genitals to turn black then disintegrate into-"

"I get the point!" Jim was pretty sure his voice hit soprano that time, and he shot Bones a dirty look when the bastard threw back his head and laughed as they wandered towards the academy dorms and Bones' dermal regenerator. A short time later, he was lounging on the sofa in Bones' dorm room with his head in the man's lap as he ran the regenerator over the cut on his cheek with one hand, the other lightly holding his jaw to keep him from moving. Jim let his eyes drift closed as the tingling sensation did its job, not even registering when he finished the work. The hand that had been keeping him still loosened, and he sighed contentedly as fingers caressed his features, a thumb running crookedly over his lips as he smiled and opened his eyes. "What are we doing, Bones?" Those amazing eyes met his own, the frown lines between the older man's brows smoother than he had ever seen as he lifted his newly healed hand and ran his fingers over them.

"We'll worry about it later, Jim." That sounded like a good plan; between that damn test and other concerns, he really didn't want to have to freak out over...whatever this was along with it. Jim took his leave of Bones a few hours later, freshly stuffed with food and head swimming with all the events of the day. Chris met him at the door when he got home, and Jim was forced a tiny bit off of his confused high when he took in the concern on his dad's face. "Something wrong, dad?" Chris's eyebrows shot up, and he shrugged.

"I was a little worried when I heard through the campus grapevine that you had one of the more interesting sessions of the Maru this year and you didn't stick around for the assessment." Chris's Captain-face flickered on long enough for Jim to let out a sigh, scratching at his nose.

"I didn't feel like listening to it. I know what I did in there." He let his determination show through as he met his dad's eyes. "I'm going to take it again. I'm not buying into the whole idea of an unbeatable test." Chris exhaled an amused hmph, and clapped his son on the shoulder.

"I can't say I'm that surprised. Just don't take it too hard if it doesn't end the way you want it to." Jim gave a go at the Bones-perfected snarky eyebrow lift, and Chris snorted. "Speaking of Leonard, can you tell me if there is any truth to the rumor I just heard...oh-" The older man glanced over at the old clock, and Jim rolled his eyes. "-about two hours ago? A little bird told me that you two were walking towards the dorms all but glued to each other."

"I have a feeling that the little bird is more like an ancient, decrepit, and general pain in the ass bird I'm well acquainted with," Jim said flatly, and Chris hmmmed, laughter brightening his eyes.

"I can't verify anything one way or the other." Jim shot his dad a mischievous grin as he sashayed up the stairs.

"Neither can I, I'm afraid. Good night, old man!" After a short shower, he fell onto his bed and wiggled under the covers, falling asleep within minutes. If he dreamed of a certain cantankerous doctor that night, he would never admit to it.

* * *

The second time was even worse. For awhile, it almost looked like he might have cracked it; they had managed to force back the Klingons enough to link up with the stranded vessel and were transporting their crew, but a well-formulated triangle attack from the regrouped Klingon warbirds cut through their shields. Before Jim could do little more than blink, the simulated bridge went red, signalling their destruction.

"That went well," he muttered, more to himself than anything; Uhura sighed behind him as she stood up and stretched, Tom shot him an apologetic smile as he rose to his feet. The proctors began to read off the general results as he nodded to his crew in thanks, the motion stuttering when he finally met Bones' eyes.

"Three hours, kid...I'm pretty sure that's a record," Bones said as he pushed himself out of his seat, rocking his head from side to side; Jim heard a crack a few seconds later. He blinked dumbly at the older man as he moved to join his side. "We've been in here for three hours, Jim. Didn't you hear them announce that?" He looked blankly at his friend as he processed the information, before his eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit." Bones snorted as they headed off the bridge, passing into the assessment room.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had clocked out with the ship, you idiot."

"It didn't feel that long," Jim mumbled, before giving Bones the stinkeye. "-and that's Captain Idiot to you, Doctor." Bones rolled his eyes as he herded him into a seat, sitting down beside him.

"Only when we're actually doing the test, _Jim_." He gave Bones a dim smirk as he slid down minutely in his chair.

"You can call me captain anytime, Bones." The only reply he got was a short-lived squeeze to his shoulder and a tired half-smile as the administrators filed in to outline the results. It was all well and good to hear that he had lasted longer than any other cadet who had attempted the test in the last two years, but he had still _failed_. Jim Pike- Jim Kirk may screw shit up, may not always get the best result; but he didn't just _fail_. He didn't fail.

"Jim. Jim!" He jerked in his seat, his eyes darting around wildly before settling on Bones, who had wrapped a hand around his wrist. "I think you need a drink, kid. Let's get you out of here." He allowed himself to be led from the building after he briefly spoke with the proctors, the older man leading him in a very well-trod direction before Jim stopped. "What's the problem?" Jim shook his head, and pointed aimlessly in another direction.

"I am not going to Crosby's today. I know what Dad says, but I have no doubt that the two commiserate occasionally; I don't feel like giving them any fodder." Bones looked him over for a moment with his mouth set in a thin line, before nodding and walking in the opposite direction.

As much as getting drunk sounded wonderful, the monthly trip to the Sierras with Chris was tomorrow, and on the list of things that he didn't do that he kept in his head, drunken flying was pretty high up on it. Right along with getting shot and letting people get too close. As he watched Bones swipe his ID through the reader at his dorm door, he mentally revised his goals to best two out of three. The buzz from the swill was still present, making his muscles loose and emotions muffled, like his face was pressed into a down-filled pillow. It was also making it far too easy to watch every movement Bones made. Jim dropped into his usual position on the sofa as the man in question got them water out of the drink dispensers, not even slowing as he put the glasses on the coffee table and lifting Jim's head up off the cushions far enough to sit down, then lowering it back onto his thigh.

"Y'know, you coulda just told me to move." Bones snorted as he leaned over Jim and grabbed his glass off the table, taking a swig. It was completely unfair that he still looked good even from this horrible angle.

"It would have taken too long." Jim scowled up at the older man as he watched his Adam's Apple bob. The sigh emerged from his throat before he could swallow it down, and Bones looked down at him as he set his glass back down. "You are a crazy bastard, Jim. Why the hell would you want to take the test twice?" Jim's scowl flattened out, and he turned his face into Bones' thigh, its owner sighing with the motion. "This isn't like you, Jim. Why does this test, out of all the other things you've done here at the academy bother you so much?" Jim closed his eyes as a hand began carding through his hair, the strong fingers rubbing light circles into his scalp.

"I- I don't just fail at things, Bones. Mangle them, sure, but I don't _fail_," he mumbled into Bones' leg, the soothing hand coming to a stop as he spoke.

"Are you saying that the only reason you keep doing this is because you're a sore loser?" The incredulity in the older man's voice was biting, and Jim jerked his face up to glare at his friend.

"What? No!" Bones adjusted his hand and set back to work on massaging Jim's head, his gaze thoughtful as he looked down at him.

"Then why?" His voice came out in little more than a whisper; Jim's eyes hooded as he collected his thoughts.

"Alright, it's a small part of the reason. But-" He extended his right arm, looking at his fingers as they obscured the light from above. "-I refuse to believe in a completely impossible situation, Bones. It's practically a family tradition." That actually got a ghost of a smile out of Bones, whose fingers migrated to Jim's temples, still moving in relaxing circles.

"So your entire family is batshit insane _and_ you're a sore loser. Got it." He tried to dig up a proper glare in response, but the humor in Bones' eyes kept him from doing anything more than a childish pout.

"Fuck you, asshole," Jim bitched, followed by a wince as the fingers suddenly pulled at his hair.

"Do you want to watch a movie or something, kid?" That got his attention, and he boggled up at Bones as the hand traced invisible lines on his forehead.

"You never watch movies with me, why now?"

"I'm hoping it'll get your mind off of certain things I'm tired of hearing about."

"Yeah yeah, clue received." A grin exploded onto his face, and Bones grimaced. "-and I know exactly what movie we are going to watch!" Jim started to sit up, only to be impeded by the older man's hand on his head.

"I got it." Bones leaned over and grabbed the room's PADD, handing it over to Jim, who gleefully began to call up the movie. The look on Bones' face was worth the choice, and he was just happy to make it through Le Jazz Hot this time before the warmth of his friend's body lulled him to sleep.

Jim roused slowly, not to the expected sound of grand musical numbers, but to Bones groaning; he managed a mmph sound as he opened his eyes.

"Movie...over?" He yawned, cringing at the rather painful crack his jaw made in protest. The person he was addressing finished stretching, and looked down with bleary eyes.

"It's been over for hours, sleeping beauty. I've been attempting to study since." Bones' expression told what he thought of that chain of events, and Jim let out a sleepy chuckle.

"Then go to bed, you idiot. I'll stay here on the couch." Bones' hand came to rest on his collarbone, lightly stroking, and he looked up as the doctor seemed to come to a conclusion.

"Why don't you just sleep in the bed, Jim. It's far more comfortable." Jim froze up instantly, and Bones rolled his eyes as Jim pushed away his hand and struggled to his feet, all but gasping for breath around the sudden worry in his chest.

"-on second thought, I should get going, I need to be up pretty early." He reached for his bag, only to be intercepted by Bones, who grasped his shoulders and turned him around.

"Jim, relax. I'm just saying that the bed is big enough for both of us, I'm not inferring anything else." Jim tried to pull away, but the other man's grip was firm. "Seriously, Jim. Just sleep. As long as your boots are off, you can stay fully dressed. I don't care." Bones leaned in, pressing his forehead to Jim's; Jim inhaled sharply and avoided his eyes. "Just trust me, Jim," Bones whispered against his lips, and he felt any fight he had bleed out of him. Forcing his eyes forward, he looked into his friend's, their green tones shadowed by tired concern, and nodded. Without another word, the older man led him back towards his bed and pushed him into sitting on the edge before walking off to the bathroom. Jim listened to Bones brush his teeth without moving, and didn't meet his eyes when he came back out of the bathroom. "Jim-"

"Yeah." He bent over and worked his boots off, shucking them to the side as he rose to his feet, pulling off his uniform jacket and revealing the matching red sweater underneath. He started to sit back down, before glancing at his waist; the belt joined the boots and jacket a moment later. By this point, Bones had already changed into an old t-shirt and sleep pants, and he rounded the bed, sitting on the opposite side.

"You okay over there?" His voice was rough with exhaustion, but Jim could hear the affection in his tone. He had no clue what he had done to deserve Bones. He scooted towards the headboard until the other man was able to turn down the covers, letting the bed's owner climb in first. "Get in here, you ass." Jim snorted at the muffled grumbling, but did as he was told, carefully lowering himself onto his side. Bones reached out and cupped his hand around his cheek, and Jim pressed his face into it, his lips grazing the palm. "Go to sleep, Jim. I'll wake you up when you need to get going." Jim murmured a thank you as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot as he ignored the impulse to flee, letting his eyes drift closed. When Bones' hand drifted down the side of his face and he heard the sighed words _What am I going to do with you, Jim_, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming or not.

He had never slept in the same bed with anyone else since he was a little boy and he would crawl into Sam's bed during thunderstorms, excepting the one time on shore leave with Chris and John where their room reservation had been screwed up, leaving them with a single massive bed. But that was different. Completely different. Through the haze of sleep, he could occasionally distinguish soft snores, feel the heat of the other man next to him; despite what people had probably thought, he had never so much as slept in the same room as Carol back when they were dating. Sleeping was when he was at his most vulnerable, where all it would take is someone pulling at the right article of clothing covering his wings to blow the whole game right open...and not once had he worried about it with Bones. Not once.

The bed dipped next to him, and Jim opened his eyes, or tried to, anyway; he brought a stiff hand up to wipe the gunk out of them as Bones shifted his weight and leaned over, brushing his lips over his temple. He was pretty sure he wasn't awake enough for the warm and fuzzy crap to start building in his belly, but the rest of him disagreed; after a lazy moment inhaling Bones' scent, he slowly turned onto his side, squinting up at the older man.

"I- I think I could get used to that." That actually drew a laugh out of the older man, who replied with a peck on the lips.

"I can't say I'm sorry to hear that," Bones drawled, giving a firm pat to Jim's arm. "We'll have to have that discussion later, kid, I've been trying to wake you up for almost a half-hour now." Jim looked at the other man blankly, his eyes widening.

"What time is it?" He squawked, almost falling out of bed as he jerked to a sitting position. His jacket and belt appeared on the bed next to him, and he got to his feet and began winding his belt back through the loops. Bones looked over at the clock and frowned.

"You leave at oh-eight-thirty, right? You've got twenty minutes."

"_What_?" He yanked his jacket on, closing it with one hand while grabbing for his boots with the other. "It takes almost fifteen minutes to get to the shuttleport from here!" Bones snorted, but handed him his boots.

"I tried just about everything to wake you up, but you didn't even twitch. I thought I was going to have to turn on that Andorian rock song again." Jim winced dramatically as he jiggled the last boot into position and got to his feet.

"Thank you for refraining, I don't think I would have woken up well to that." He swiped a hand through his hair, then turned to Bones, the moment stretching between them. "I'll- I'll talk to you later." He had no idea why he was blushing, but he definitely could feel the heat on his face; Bones saved himself from getting slugged by not laughing, although he could see it trying to sneak out through his eyes.

"Get out of here, you infant. You're going to be late." Oh yeah. He barreled towards the door, waving goodbye as he ran out of the building and sprinted across campus. Twenty minutes later, he was gasping for breath in the co-pilot seat of the small transport shuttle, listening to his dad run through the usual pre-flight checks.

"So, where were you last night?" Jim found himself blushing all over again before he could tamp it down, and it had the unfortunate response he expected. "Oh ho, moving up in the world, Jim?" Chris smirked at his son as he raised his finger to the comm. "Hold that thought." Jim sat back and buckled himself in as his dad did the announcements, listening to the sounds of the people settling into their seats in the cabin behind. The trip to Yosemite was a short one, and as soon as they were level, Chris's head swivelled towards Jim. "So?" Jim rolled his eyes.

"So- what?" Chris's eyebrow wasn't quite like Bones', but both were equally telling in their own right. "I just crashed at Bones' dorm after the Maru, that's all. We even watched a movie." It was his dad's turn to roll his eyes, the older man giving an amused exhale as he turned his gaze back to the front.

"Jim, there's crashing with Leonard, and there's _crashing with Leonard. _Considering you've been staying there off and on for almost three years, your reaction definitely indicates something a little different, hmm?" Jim's lips twisted in irritation, and Chris gave his son a soft smile, his laugh lines in full bloom as he looked down at the controls. "Jim, although there are times it doesn't seem like it, you are an adult, and in a few months you'll be an officer in Starfleet. I'm not going to treat you like a child anymore. I wouldn't be doing you any favors by doing so." Chris trailed off, and Jim looked out the viewscreen without speaking, before taking a deep breath and flashing a smile.

"It's- I'm- everything is just...beginning, I guess. I mean, there are obvious issues that I have to...figure out." The atmosphere in the cockpit sobered, and Chris sighed as he entered the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Jim watched the peaks go by, and after a moment, he heard an intake of breath.

"I hate to say this, Jim, but I think your time is running out. Doctor Phlox is one-hundred percent right; you'll never be able to hide it on a starship." That was the crux of the matter, and he closed his eyes as he thought about it. Almost fifteen years had passed since he had woke up one morning with horrible back pain; he didn't remember much after entering the front room to tell his mother until Chris appeared, helping him the way his mother _should_ have. For all of the secrecy and problems he had gone through, he wouldn't change a minute of it. Except getting shot. That had really not gone well. Bones could probably fix the scar if he asked him sometime- sometime _after_.

Chris set down at the usual spot a few hundred meters from the Ahwahnee Hotel, still standing after three-hundred years and several world wars, letting the passengers out before lifting off again and heading north-east. The familiar oblong-shaped valley of Lundy came into view, and he couldn't help but smile as the shuttle touched down near the wooded shore. Once upon a time, it had been a moderately popular destination for fishermen and campers, but those days had died after the wars; the dam had been destroyed in a failed missile test, and the tourist facilities had all washed away in the resulting torrent of water. When Chris had taken him here for the first time, he told him that he had stumbled upon it by accident when he was travelling around the Mono Basin during one of his summer breaks during his time at the academy, and had to this day never seen another person besides himself and anyone he brought with him. Which meant it was perfect. Jim hopped out of the shuttle and looked at the lake; he could see the ripples from the fish breaking the surface in the distance and a few gulls coasting overhead as he tilted his head to the sky. He admired the snow covering the peaks above, and he knew he couldn't wait any longer. He peeked back at Chris, who was setting up a folding chair.

"Mind if I head up?" Chris sat down in the chair, shaking his head.

"Don't piss the gulls off again." Jim grinned as he pulled off his jacket, followed by his shirt and harness; Chris glowered at him as the discarding articles of clothing landed near his chair. "You know, you could actually fold them up for once."

"That would require too much effort." The older man snorted as he powered up a PADD.

"God forbid you expend any effort." Jim slowly unfurled his wings, wincing as the blood flow began to circulate properly again. The older he got, the longer it took to recover from the harness; he began to jog down the shoreline, his wings half-spread as he flapped gently. No one could complain about pins and needles in their limbs when it came to him, there was simply a massive scale difference that he doubted few species could compare to. After a few minutes of jogging back and forth, he started to flap in earnest, the breeze lifting his wings naturally as he ran flat out; just before he was to run out of straight shoreline, he took to the air, banking over the lake as he rose in altitude. The gulls shrieked and scattered around him, and he looked down for a moment to see his dad shoot him a dirty look and pull up an umbrella.

"Sorry!" He let the currents send him up, higher and higher, until all he could see below was the tiny circle of Chris's umbrella against the dappled shore. The air was cold, and getting worse as he climbed, but the sheer exhilaration he felt more than overcame the chill; Jim twisted and dove into a spiral, before pulling up with a twirl and hovering for a moment, watching the birds in the distance. The world was amazingly quiet at this height, with only scattered bird calls and the occasional stray sound from the lake below reaching his ears, and he allowed himself to flutter back and forth as his eyes drooped. The jarring sound of an air horn burst through his calm, and he immediately drew his wings in and allowed himself to fall for a few seconds before unfurling them again, coasting down to where his dad was. He opened his mouth as soon as he was within audible range.

"Kinda early, yeah?" Jim shouted, and he could just make out Chris shake his head.

"You need to get down here, Jim." The tone that he could still decipher even in shouting told him that his statement was not a suggestion. Jim's brow furrowed as he dropped into a spiralling descent pattern, coming to a clean stop only a few meters from the older man.

"What's wrong?" Chris's face seemed to be twitching, emotions flickering off and on, and concern caused him to step closer to his dad. "Dad?" The older man's face settled into what Jim translated as amused resignation, and he felt a jolt of anxiety shoot through him.

"You forgot your comm, son." Jim heard a noise nearby, but ignored it in favor of Chris. "-and I forgot to check to make sure the cabin was empty before leaving Yosemite."

"You forgot to check-" His voice trailed off as the blood immediately drained from his face, and he turned with a jerk towards the sound he had heard a moment earlier. Bones stepped out of the trees, his eyes wider than Jim had ever seen them and his mouth slack with shock; as the doctor drew closer, Jim expected to see many things in his expression: disgust, anger, even fear; but _wonder_ wasn't among them. Bones seemed to be trying to say something, his jaw tensing and his mouth opening and closing, but Jim wasn't listening. He staggered back a few steps as his eyes darted around and his head screamed for him to run; his heart felt like it was clawing its way out of his chest as he began to sway in place, fighting the urge to just pass out so he could pretend this wasn't happening.

"Oh- oh fuck."

* * *

61000+ words and I end it on a cliff hanger. :D --unrepentant smile

::gets bricked::

* * *

Holy ::insert religious figure here:: on a pogo stick this took forever. Firstly, I've given up counting music references. There was a lot. Have fun finding them. :P

(EDIT: Approximately 20, including repeats from previous sections.)

So #5 started about a year or so before the end of #4, where Jim is wandering around getting in trouble. I wanted to have at least a little back story to his downfall from general Daddy's Boy (that sounds so wrong O_o,) it just ended up going longer than I expected. Oh well. :P

This story covers around 4 years, so it actually makes sense that it's far longer than the others, I think. It just kept going.

I wanted to point out (in varying levels of subtlety) that Jim's differences comprise more than just his wings. Hopefully it worked out okay.

Bio-plast is what Jim's harness is made out of. It's the same stuff as Data's (TNG) skin. I think it wouldn't be hard to do a bit better in color matching, so I don't see the harness as yellow. It would stand out too much. :)

Teakettle Junction and Racetrack are two infamous areas at the edge of Death Valley. Racetrack Playa is home to a very unusual phenomenon that I'm sure this Jim finds awesome. XD

The place they stop for their afternoon out is Lundy Lake (http://www. panoramio. com/photo/3185607), a beautiful area which is located in a valley tucked back into the mountains by Mono Lake. There is only one mostly dirt road leading into to the area, and I find it completely reasonable that it could have simply been forgotten about in the aftermath of the Eugenics Wars and what not. Mono Lake is the place in the picture at the top of my LJ layout. :)

There are tons of open points left open on purpose, as #6 will be from Bones' POV, and will start the morning of the day he finds out. No long rewind for the next one. XD

* * *

Music References for _At his father's right hand_:

1. Mr. Bowie the communications officer = David Bowie

2. Admiral Osterberg = James Osterberg is the birth-name of Iggy Pop

3. Mikel Stipe and Mikel Stipe Jr. = Michael Stipe of the band R.E.M.

4. Mr. Waylon = _Waylon_ Jennings

5. Mr. Mathis = Johnny Mathis

6. Mr. Jennings = Waylon _Jennings _

7. Shannon Richards = Richard Shannon Hoon of the band Blind Melon

8. _Annie's Song_ is an incredibly sweet love ballad by John Denver. It may make a reappearance later. ^_~

9. _And So It Goes_ is a beautiful song sung by John Denver, and is featured on the collaborative album _Will the Circle Be Unbroken II_ (Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.)  
10. "an empty bottle of booze" is a line from the Johnny Cash song _A Boy Named Sue_. (Probably the least obvious of all of these)

11. Commander Summer = Donna Summer

12. Petty Officer Orbison = Roy Orbison

13. Admiral Gaynor = Gloria Gaynor

14. Mr. Nelson = Willie Nelson

15. Commodore Franklin = Aretha Franklin


	6. Looking for one good man Part 1

Notes:

After months of getting next to no writing done, I have decided to post the completed first half in hopes that it will help encourage me to kick my butt into gear on the rest. I hope you enjoy! :D This is unbetaed, I'm not going to harass her until I have the whole thing done. XD;

Obviously, there are lines and large chunks of events borrowed from the movie. Don't kill me please! ;)

**Title:** Looking for one good man (Part 1)  
**Series: **Western Skies (#6)  
**Author:** Anrui Ukimi  
**God-like Beta:** Welovethelegend (This section UNBETAED)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings**: AU, Wing!fic, eating problem caused by chemical imbalance  
**Word count:** 50564 (out of an estimated 110-125k)  
**Pairings**: Jim/Bones, Chris/John  
**Notes/Disclaimer:** Not mine, I just like playing with them. :)

**Summary:** Len once was a plain old country doctor, not so long ago. He hasn't quite figured out how ended up basically courting an angel, ending up in space, and becoming a hero, but at least one of the three isn't so bad. He thought he had lost most of his family when he left Georgia, but he may have just found a new one when he wasn't looking.

* * *

**Looking for one good man**

Leonard McCoy hadn't slept in the same bed as another person since six months before his divorce. He had slept in the same vicinity as others since then, usually Jim borrowing either his couch or his thigh when they relaxed out on the lawns, but this wasn't the same. He wouldn't have affixed any real significance to sleeping together platonically with a friend, but it was painfully clear that Jim did. Len wasn't an idiot. When Gaila had stormed into his dorm in the midst of a rather dramatic guilt trip a few months back, he had listened. Gaila thought his reaction had been centered in a lack of self-worth, stemmed from the actions of others, but that wasn't Jim. Jim was a cocky, flirtatious pain in the ass that could ace almost every class he entered and jump from shuttles with a grin, but he also had an almost-crippling case of paranoia regarding his personal life. Len had seen it at work over the last three years, and as such, he had been forced to compile a list of rules regarding the kid. Among these rules, things such as never use a tricorder in his presence, try not to touch his back, try not to bring Chris up in public, and don't ask too many questions stood out the most. It had been grating originally, but Len had found himself acclimated to it before he even realized it. The kid had that effect on people. He sighed and focused his eyes on the man in question. He just wished that Jim would let him in. The younger man's face was slack in sleep, his mouth slightly parted, the faint whistles coming from it made him quirk a smile as he brought a hand up; he traced the younger man's features as he lay next to him, his fingers finding every scar that should have been healed properly under the faint stubble. Jim's nose scrunched up at the touch, but he made no other sign of rousing as Len let his fingertips slide across Jim's lips. No, it wasn't from ostracizing. Jim was hiding something. But that was a matter for another time. Pulling his hand back, he scrubbed at his own hair before pulling himself upright. He probably needed to get the kid up. Getting to his feet, he padded over to the clock, furrowing his brow at the display. It was definitely time to get Jim up.

"Jim, time to wake up." No response. "Jim, don't you want to take a shower or something before you leave on your trip?" That may have been a toe twitch. "Jim, get your sorry ass out of bed!" Two toe twitches. Maybe. Len rolled his eyes and walked over to the drink dispenser. "I give up." He didn't, of course, and over the next twenty minutes he poked at Jim, called his name every few minutes, and made sure to make as much noise as he could as he walked around his dorm. One more glance at the clock reminded him that he was on a time schedule, and Len realized there was one thing he hadn't tried. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he leaned over just as Jim's eyes fluttered open, the younger man bringing a hand up to rub at the corners as he gave Jim a peck on his temple. He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face as the kid rolled over, his stupidly-blue eyes blinked owlishly at him before dropping into a half-awake squint.

"I- I think I could get used to that." Len chuckled as he leaned in one last time, giving the drowsy man a quick kiss on the lips.

"I can't say I'm sorry to hear that," he drawled, before giving Jim a pat on the arm. "We'll have to have that discussion later, kid, I've been trying to wake you up for almost a half-hour now." Jim's eyes widened comically, nearly falling out of the bed as he jerked upright with a squawk.

"What time is it?" Len rolled his eyes at the high-pitched tone, plucking Jim's belt and jacket off the floor and dropping them next to the younger man, who immediately got to his feet and put the items back on. Len glanced over at the clock with a frown.

"You leave at oh-eight-thirty, right? You've got twenty minutes." That got Jim's attention.

"_What_?" Len watched as Jim tried to put his jacket on at the same time as he reached his boots, and not doing a very good job at either. "It takes almost fifteen minutes to get to the shuttleport from here!" He rolled his eyes again and snorted as he averted the current crisis by handing Jim his boots.

"I tried just about everything to wake you up, but you didn't even twitch. I thought I was going to have to turn on that Andorian rock song again." He would have had to be really desperate to fire that monstrosity up again; the first time they had heard it, Len was sure that his eardrums were going to shut down in protest, and Jim looked like he had wanted to vomit. Jim now was even grimacing at the thought as he fought his last boot on and got up.

"Thank you for refraining, I don't think I would have woken up well to that." Jim met his eyes, and Len bit back a smile as the younger man's cheeks flushed as the moment stretched between them. It was utterly endearing, but Len would never tell the kid that- if only because he liked his orbital bones to stay fracture-free. He tilted his head towards the door.

"Get out of here, you infant. You're going to be late." Jim rushed out the door with a wave, and Len listened with amusement as the sound of footsteps faded quickly into the distance, chuckling as he turned away from the door and went to make the bed. As he pulled the topsheet tight, a small, familiar device bounced off the taut fabric and landed on the floor, and he felt his eyebrow inching up automatically. Could the kid ever keep track of his damned communicator? "He's a complete and utter idiot," he grumbled. He needed the thing, especially as he was going off-campus into the Sierras, with all the obscenely high cliffs a nutcase like Jim would ever want to try and kill himself on. Pocketing the communicator, Len glanced at his clock. If he left now, he could probably catch him before the shuttle took off. The things he did for this kid. The door closed behind him as he ran out of his building and sped across campus, his heart pounding in his chest with the effort. He would definitely be skipping gym today. The campus shuttleport came into view, and after a glance at the list of outgoing flights, he hustled to the correct bay. The shuttle was still there, but they were about to close the doors; he sprinted into the cabin without a second thought, getting a glare for his troubles from the ensign doing the outside checks. Only after the doors had closed behind him did he realize what he had done. "Well, fuck." Len started looking around the cabin for Jim, the subdued lighting not helping as he ran his eyes over the other passengers. Not here. This was the right shuttle, he was sure of it. Finding what appeared to be the last spots in the back, he settled down into the seat and buckled himself in. He was just considering asking the cadet next to him when Chris's voice came on over the speaker, giving them the standard take-off speech as the engine started, vibrating the entire shuttle. Len grimaced automatically, but the old nausea remained at bay. Trust Starfleet to try their best to drum any hints of aviaphobia out of their cadets. Now that he knew he was on the right shuttle, with Jim obviously in the cockpit with his dad, he could relax; it wasn't like he had anything better planned to do today. He had always been meaning to go on one of these day trips, might as well do it while it's free. Jim seemed to love the things, always came back so much calmer than before; anything that could make the kid relax received his stamp of approval. Shoving back the bubbling anxiety that Starfleet couldn't completely bleed out of him, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Len awoke to a particularly loud snore, and he looked blindly around for a second before it registered in his brain that the snore had come from him. God, he hated sleeping upright. He was too damn old to be doing this. After rubbing at his eyes, he looked around the cabin. Then looked again. He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, wincing as joints popped and his back muscles twinged in protest. Where the hell was everybody? It hit him a moment later as he approached the door, and he couldn't completely suppress the embarrassed flush that he could feel climbing his neck. He had slept through the goddamned landing and disembarking. "Of all the the stupid things to do-" Len grumbled as the door hissed open, stepping out into a mostly wooded area, dirt and scrub crunching under his feet as he looked around. This was not what he expected. He could swear he remembered the drop off being near a hotel, not the middle of the woods. He could hear water nearby, and he walked slowly towards the sound; he didn't want to stray too far from the shuttlecraft and get lost, or worse, left behind. That's the last thing he needed. Light streamed through the trees, and he paused at a break in the foliage. Len was pretty sure this wasn't Yosemite; the lake was picturesque and of a fair size, from what little bit he could see, framed by sparsely wooded mountainside. He frowned as he tried to remember what he knew about Yosemite. He didn't remember any major lakes being mentioned. He shrugged as he worked his way around a few more trees, feeling the ground under his feet soften as he approached the water. After a few more moments of careful stepping, the lake was almost fully visible, and he felt a smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. So Chris and Jim took the shuttle somewhere else after dropping off the passengers...that explained why he was always so close-mouthed on the trips. A quick glance up got him seeing spots from the sun, but he caught a glimpse of wings against the light before he dropped his head again. He needed to find either dad or son and apologize for crashing their family time. Peering along the coast, he could see a shape that resolved itself into Chris, sitting in a chair with an umbrella propped up to cover his head. It looked like he was reading a PADD. Len backed into the trees a bit and started making his way towards that direction, biting back a curse as he tripped over a tree root. The soft ground was a bitch; explained why the shuttle was parked so far away from the shore. Len headed towards the shore again, the back of Chris's chair and head coming into view. A flash of color caught his eye, and he looked down at a small pile near the older man's chair. There was no doubt what those were, at least the two red items; he would recognize that uniform jacket and sweater anywhere. The other item, though- Len stepped a bit closer, an eyebrow raised. What the hell was that? It looked like a shirt made out of skin, which was a somewhat...disturbing thought; maybe it was a support garment of some sort. His jaw dropped slightly when he realized what this meant. Jim was somewhere around here without his shirt on. A sliver of guilt was worming its way into his mind, but he pushed it back as his eyes scanned the shoreline. There was no sign of the kid anywhere. He stepped back a bit into a small mass of shade, and looked around again. Chris obviously wasn't worried, so he doubted that Jim was drowning somewhere. The sun shifted enough to get out of his eyes, and he instinctively glanced up. The weather was perfect for an outing like this, warm and clear; the seagulls screeching at a large bird flying at a higher altitude just added to the scene. Len blinked and looked at the birds again. The seagulls were acting with obvious agitation, but he could see why; that was easily the biggest bird he had ever seen.

"What the hell is that?" Len squinted his eyes to try and get a better view, his gaze tracing the bit besides the wings he could see. Those were legs, humanoid legs. The Skorr had wings, but they could only use them to glide; short of jumping out of a shuttle, there was no way one could get to that height. Len kept his eyes on the being as it spiralled and dove, swooping straight into the gang of pissed off gulls; he caught sight of human-toned skin and- and dark blond hair catching the light. Len shook his head, looking down for a moment. He was seeing things. After clenching his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, he looked to the sky one more time, just as the figure_ that couldn't possibly be who it looked like_ gave a wave in Chris's direction before catching a burst of wind, rising swiftly out of clear view. Even as he faded to little more than a tiny shape against the few clouds, he couldn't pull his eyes away.

"Well, I knew this was going to happen sometime. I'm just relieved it's you." Len didn't jump, but he couldn't start to guess the look on his face as he tilted his head slowly down to look at Chris, who was standing a few meters away with an expression torn between relief and resignation. "Yes, Leonard, it's really him." He looked away from the older man at those words, squinting up into the sun, and he could hear Chris sigh. "His x-gene is active." That brought him back down to earth, enough to focus his eyes back on Chris. "Why are you here, anyway?" Len blinked at the Captain, before reaching a hand into his pocket and pulling out Jim's communicator. Chris rolled his eyes and barked out a laugh. "So, in the end, it's his own damn fault."

"I fell asleep on the shuttle," Len croaked out, and Chris snorted as he glanced up in his son's direction.

"-and I didn't do the usual cabin check because I was too busy teasing him. Hm." The two men looked at each other in silence, until Chris broke away and picked up a small canister from the ground near the chair. The sound of the air horn made Len wince, but it did what it was supposed to; the figure-_ Jim_ tucked his wings in and dove, and he sucked in a horrified breath as the young man plummeted for several seconds before they flared open, and even though he was out of the sunlight, Len could clearly make out the highlights in Jim's hair. The reality of the situation was still working its way through his brain, but synapses were beginning to fire. _Wings_. Jim had fully-formed and functioning wings attached to his back. It...explained a lot of things.

"Kinda early, yeah?" Jim's voice was faint, but it was clearly him. Len stayed silent as Chris yelled back up to him.

"You need to get down here, Jim." He watched as Jim began to spiral, coming closer and closer to the ground before landing cleanly a few meters from his Dad. Len's throat had gone dry at the sight, his eyes tracing the thin contours of the younger man's torso and hips as he walked over to his dad. It was like seeing a whole different person; the Jim he was used to had a stiffness to his overall posture, his back always at attention and his gait almost awkward. This Jim had a sway to his movements, one that he would almost call feminine as he watched the younger man's hips; but Len could tell it was a natural response to counterbalance the wings. It suited him.

"What's wrong?" Len held his breath as Chris didn't speak, and Jim sidled closer to the older man. "Dad?"

"You forgot your comm, son." Len shifted as Chris spoke, cringing inwardly as brush crunched under his feet, but neither of the other men turned around. "-and I forgot to check to make sure the cabin was empty before leaving Yosemite." He could hear Jim inhale sharply, and he knew it was time.

"You forgot to check-" Len moved out of the shadow of the trees as Jim turned towards him, the two men staring at each other with wide eyes and wan faces; he tried to get his brain to form a cohesive sentence, but he couldn't even get it to form a single word. Jim seemed to be faring even worse, the younger man falling back a few paces, his breath coming in hastening gasps as his eyes darted wildly around.

"Oh- oh fuck." Len watched with alarm as Jim's lips began to turn the same white that the rest of his complexion had already adopted, and instinct took over. Rushing to his side, he cupped his hands around the panicking man's face, lightly stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.

"Jim- Jim, it's alright. Calm down." Jim shook his head jerkily and tried to pull away, but Len countered by wrapping an arm around the man's waist. "Jim, look at me." Jim wouldn't stop hyperventilating, and Len was forced to shift his weight as he slumped in his arms, slowly lowering the two of them to the dirt. The younger man's forehead was crushed into his sternum as he alternated between gasping for breath and pulling away; Len brought his hand up and began running his fingers through Jim's hair. "Slow, deep breaths, Jim. Slow." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chris standing within easy reach, but seemed to be content just to observe. Len could have laughed if the situation wasn't already so surreal. This was his test, to prove that he was a suitable...something to Chris's son, he was sure of it; he had no illusions of the Captain's ability to get him assigned to a small outpost on the border of the Neutral Zone if he fucked this up. Looking down at the shaking man in his arms, Len knew he definitely didn't want to. He ignored Chris as he pressed his lips against Jim's hair. "That's right, Jim- shhhh. Just breathe for a bit." Jim's rapid gasps had receded to slow, shaking breaths, his wings fluttering with each exhale. _Fluttering_. Shit, it was going to take him awhile to get used to that. After a unmeasurable stretch of time, with Len keeping his lips pressed to the younger man's scalp as he traced faint circles in the short hair near his nape with his fingertips, Jim pulled his face away from Len's chest. Blue eyes met his own in a thoughtful look, and Len again found himself trying to find something to say.

"I'm going for a walk. I have my comm if anyone needs me." Both Len and Jim's heads swivelled towards Chris, who gave them a fond smile before turning on his heel and walking away. Jim tensed again, and Len tightened the arm that was still around the younger man's waist. He needed to say something.

"I really was planning to just give you your comm and head back to my room. When I couldn't find you, I decided to hop on-board. Not like I had any real plans today anyway...I figured I would just go for a nice walk while you and Chris had your family time." Jim's lip twitched, and he smiled. "I'm sorry about crashing your quiet time, but I can't say I'm sorry about this." He brought his other arm around Jim's waist, his hand sliding into the dip of the younger man's back; Jim bucked and forced himself out of Len's arms with a choked-off gasp. Len's eyebrows shot up in alarm, and he grabbed Jim's hand. "What the hell was that? Did you hurt something?" Jim was turning a rather amusing shade of red as he shook his head.

"It didn't hurt." Jim was looking rather intently at the trees behind him, and Len looked at him blankly until the realization hit embarrassingly late. Oh. _Oh_. He was immediately forced to bite back his first response, settling for a wry smile as he tilted his head to meet the kid's eyes.

"I'll try to remember that." The blush stayed on Jim's cheeks, with his wings doing another flutter behind him, and suddenly the whole situation just seemed too much. Len began to laugh, a rumbling sound that started deep in his belly, making his sides ache and tears run down his cheeks as he curled forward; through the tears, he could make out Jim frowning at him, and that only made him laugh harder.

"What's so fucking funny?" He continued chuckling as he pulled himself back up, meeting the younger man's peeved glare as he stretched out a hand and ran it down the other man's face.

"Jim, think about it. If you were in my place, finding out that your friend has been overly paranoid ever since you met him because he's hiding a set of honest to god _wings_ under a compression garment, what do you think you would be doing?" Jim glowered at him, before sighing and rubbing a hand against the back of his neck.

"It's more than just the wings," Jim murmured, but the glare had faded to a shaky smile. Len sobered, placing his hands on Jim's shoulders.

"I figured. Chris told me why you have them." Jim soured a bit at the mention of his dad, glancing in the direction the man had walked off towards.

"How much did he look like he had won the Sol System Lottery when he approached you?" He raised an eyebrow at the odd question, and Jim sighed. "He's been trying to get me to- stop. Stop-"

"-hiding?" The younger man glared at him, before dropping his eyes down.

"...I wouldn't call- I- yes." Jim was glowering, and Len sighed quietly. "I knew it was only a matter of time until I was going to have to fess up, but I-" Jim trailed off, and Len ran his hands down to Jim's biceps, squeezing lightly. "-I couldn't bring myself to do it." Jim straightened, looking Len straight in the eye. "I'm sorry." Len snorted, bringing his hands up to Jim's face.

"No, you're not." That earned him a wounded look from the other man, and Len raised an eyebrow. "Jim, you have gone out of your way for as long as I've known you to make sure that no one, not myself, not Gaila, not anyone else, could get anything regarding your private life out of you. I know damn good and well that it was your dad's idea to bring me over after the ball, not yours. I wouldn't know a damn thing about you besides that you are a genius pain in my ass if it wasn't for that." Jim frowned and crossed his arms with a huff, looking for all the world like a little kid; Len smirked and leaned in, pressing his forehead against the other man's. "Life would be pretty boring without you, kid; that's all I gotta say."

"Asshole," Jim snarked right back, but there was no heat in it. Len took Jim's hands and brought them both to their feet, the younger man's wings flapping automatically to rid themselves of dirt. He couldn't resist. Before Jim could move, he scooted around him, reaching a hand out and brushing his fingers against the fine feathers near the base of the left wing; he barely missed getting bowled over by the wing snapping out in response as Jim squawked and spun around. "Warn a guy first! Shit!" Len brought his hands up in a pacifying gesture, trying not to laugh at the reemergence of the blush on the other man's cheeks.

"Why don't you educate me a bit. That will keep me from seeing just how sensitive other parts of you are," Len drawled, barking out a laugh at the sight of the blush working down Jim's neck, then promptly getting knocked on his ass by the snap of a wing. As he laid there on the ground laughing his ass off, he couldn't help but think he _could_ really get used to this.

* * *

Len was getting a bit tired of Jim's method of dealing with emotionally charged issues. Or not dealing with them, as the case generally was. It had been two weeks since he had found out exactly what Jim had been really hiding, and after they had both gotten over the shock, he had thought they had reached an understanding. Jim had explained the general physical differences with a clarity bordering on enthusiasm, and he managed to mostly satisfy both his professional and personal curiosity, even if he had to keep himself from dragging Jim off to do tests. It was clear that Jim liked someone new to talk to about it, and he certainly didn't mind. The revelation hadn't changed any of his thoughts on the younger man, only answered questions- So why was Jim avoiding him? Ever since they had returned from Lundy, Jim had been scarce; oh, he was still talking to him, but there had been no visits to his dorm room, nor calls to meet up. The only time Len saw the younger man is when he ran into him on campus. He had given Jim his space for awhile, to let him adjust to the idea of another person knowing, but this was getting ridiculous. Len had called him several times, and each time the call had gone to messages. He had played with the idea of calling Chris, but that felt like admitting failure; although he didn't have the same dogged determination on some things that Jim had, and was perfectly capable of cutting and running if the situation called for it, failure was still unacceptable. Especially in a situation that was far from a lost cause. He slapped the PADD he was holding down on his desk and stalked to the door. Enough was enough; he was going to find the flighty bastard and force him to come clean. At least that was the plan, anyway. He was barely out of his room before his portable comm sounded, and he sighed and turned towards Starfleet Medical. Jim would have to wait. Commodore Anza's contracting of the Fostossa virus was serious enough to enforce full quarantine procedures for the woman, and Len wasn't able to get back to his apartment for almost forty-eight hours after the summons. As he crashed face-first into his pillow, he swore in the seconds between consciousness and sleep that he would confront Jim as soon as he woke up.

Len and Jim both had class around the same time in the Sloane building on Tuesday afternoons, with Len getting out of his Advanced Xenobiology class ten minutes before Jim escaped his Advanced Study of Intergalactic Warfare and Tactics class, which had the unfortunate nickname of_ Asswit_. He had pondered that on multiple occasions, and it still made absolutely no sense. Jim had shrugged and smirked with a fervor that sparked a little section of Len's mind he referred to as the _bad things zone _when he had brought the subject up, saying that it was a tradition, and Len had stopped him before he could start explaining. He was better off not knowing. Len shook his head as he leaned against the wall outside the classroom, watching the red-clad cadets walk by. Jim was not escaping him again. A burst of sound signaled the end of Jim's lecture, and he kept a firm eye on the door as the students began to file out, nodding at the ones he knew. When Jim's distinctive frame emerged, Len wasted no time in getting his attention, sliding in beside him as they headed out of the building. The younger man shot him a look of surprise, which was quickly squashed, a faint questioning glance taking its place.

"What's going on, Bones?" Len raised an eyebrow, and Jim sighed. "Just spit it out."

"I'm getting tired of getting the cold shoulder, Jim. We need to talk." Guilt flashed over Jim's face as the sunlight hit them, and Len turned his face towards the warmth for a moment as they walked down the stairs.

"I'm going to take the test again." Len almost tripped on a step at the proclamation, and bounced uncomfortably on the following step before rounding on the younger man.

"Are you insane? Why the hell would you want to do the Kobayashi Maru for a third time? I thought you were crazy for going back for seconds, let alone thirds." Len frowned, before glaring at the other man. "-and you are not changing the subject, Jim. Why have you been avoiding me these last few weeks?" Jim was looking intensely at a spot behind Len's right shoulder, and he rolled his eyes. "Jim-"

"I want you there."

"-I know it's a new-" Len cut himself off, and blinked at Jim. "What?" Jim's face split in a mischievous half-grin that made him want to run for the hills, and he scowled. "No."

"Bones-" Len had unfortunately discovered decades ago that you could not set someone on fire with the power of your eyes. Pity.

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a goddamned lemming. If I had interest in watching you bash your head into a wall repeatedly just to see if it would stop hurting, I'd be happy to help you achieve that in simpler and less ulcer-inducing ways." Jim said nothing in response; but in-between one blink and the next, Len found himself faced with the full scale barrage of Jim's puppy dog eyes. He was fucked. "Jim-" That was a lip quiver. Damnit. "Fine. But you and I have things to talk about, mister. Why don't we go back to my-" Jim stepped back, shaking his head.

"Test is tomorrow, Bones, I've gotta study!" Len managed to wrap a hand around the younger man's left arm, but he smoothly spun out of his grasp, giving Len a slap on the back before fleeing the area. Len scowled at his retreating figure.

"Study, my ass." He ran a hand through his hair, letting it drop to his side with a sigh. "Damnit, Jim, what am I going to do with you?" He toyed briefly with the idea of chasing after him, but realized that as high-strung as the man got before these tests, any talking now would have probably been useless. Heaving one final sigh, Len set off to his apartment. He wasn't going to let Jim escape tomorrow.

* * *

The instant the power on the simulation bridge went down, screens and alerts flickering and fading, Len knew something was up. The self-satisfied smirk on Jim's face told him that he knew damn good and well this was going to happen, and he could feel the migraine build behind his eyelids as the sim ended scant moments later. The cocky speech the younger man launched into without missing a beat was so completely above and beyond the call of unnecessary that he felt a smile quirk up the corners of his mouth at Jim's sheer gall, even as his stomach began to churn. Jim was going to be in deep shit, he just knew it, but he couldn't help but be proud of the stubborn brat's perserverence. Uhura looked torn between amusement and suspicion, but Tom and the rest all looked like Jim had just managed to achieve universal peace, by the way they were gawking at him. Jim was going to be impossible to deal with, if he kept this up. The doors opened to let them out, and Jim thanked everyone as they exited the simulator, Uhura included, and Len hung back until they were the only ones in the room.

"Thanks for coming, Bones." The goofy grin had softened, and it was a more level-headed Jim that addressed him now. Len's lips twitched as they walked through the doors and down the corridor towards the debriefing room.

"I hope you aren't going to get arrested for whatever you did to get things in your favor, kid," Len muttered; Jim blinked innocently at him in response, and he groaned.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about, Doctor." The looks on the proctors faces as they entered the debriefing room ranged from clearly unhappy to curious, and he watched as Jim straightened, his features taking on a neutral expression as he stood with the rest of his Maru crew as the statistics and readings were reported, and short comments from several of the proctors were delivered. Everyone avoided addressing the elephant in the room as they spoke, and after a few minutes, they were dismissed without ceremony. Len had a very bad feeling about this, but he couldn't bring it up in earshot of any of the brass.

"Jim, why don't we go back to my room, get changed back into our reds." Jim's mouth opened, and he was sure that the younger man was going to come up with some flimsy excuse again, but he was pleasantly surprised.

"Sounds good. I could use a shower, I didn't have time to take one last night." Because he was getting his plan together for today, no doubt. Len raised an eyebrow as they walked towards his place.

"My shower isn't that big, Jim." An odd look flashed over Jim's face, and Len couldn't what he thought he had meant by the comment, but the moment passed and Jim grinned.

"Are you calling me fat?" Len snorted at the weedy tone in the younger man's voice, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders

It felt like they had come full-circle in just a few weeks. The last time Jim had been in his dorm, he had stayed the night and left his communicator behind, leading to Len finding out the big secret he had always known he was hiding...and it was a doozy. But now, Jim sauntered through the doors like none of that had happened; the only sign of the younger man was even thinking about the last time he had been there was a pause by the bed. After dropping his bag on the floor next to the bed, Len watched with amusement as Jim stripped himself of the jumpsuit without hesitation, letting it pool at his ankles; his mirth faded a bit when he realized just how far Jim had been going to protect himself, eyeing the undershirt and the pants he had worn underneath. Most people just wore their underwear.

"Good grief, Jim; weren't you hot under all that?" Jim shrugged as he stepped out of the jumpsuit.

"I've been doing this for a long time, Bones. I've gotten used to it." Len frowned at the statement, but the sudden look of worry in Jim's eyes made him shake his head.

"Nothing." Blue eyes held his own for a moment before looking away; Len pulled at his own jumpsuit as Jim reached for the hem of his undershirt, pulling the garment over his head and off. Len had seen how the harness worked when they had been getting ready to leave from Lundy, had winced at the level of compression it caused, but Jim hadn't even blinked as his wing bones had been crushed into his back by the bioplast. He wondered if it would look as bad in reverse. He didn't even realize he was staring until Jim cleared his throat.

"Expecting a striptease, Bones?" Len colored, and Jim quirked a smile as his hands went to his side, his fingers sliding under a seam that was completely invisible. The harness was peeled off and Jim's wings were exposed to the air with a grimace from the younger man. "Ick, sweaty feathers." Len watched quietly as the wings twitched, Jim peeking quickly behind himself before unfurling them enough for the ends to slip from his pants. "Do you need a shower, Bones?" Len almost jumped at Jim's voice, and he could feel the blush returning.

"No, I'm good for now. I'll grab one this evening." Jim nodded, leaning over and pulling off his pants.

"Good, because you are going to be out of hot water by the time I'm done." Jim looked around aimlessly for a moment. "Mind if I borrow your towel?" Len shook his head, and Jim turned towards the bathroom, providing a good view of a rather nice rear end covered by a fitted pair of boxer briefs- and dark red marks on his upper back marking the points where the wings dug into his back under the harness. Damnit. The door hissed closed behind Jim, and Len shucked the jumpsuit before sitting on his bed, listening to Jim move around in his bathroom. Jim needed to stop wearing the harness. It was a miracle that his wings weren't deformed in the first place, considering he had been wearing one since he was a kid; his only saving grace must have been the ability to take it off at night during his teens, where he would have done most of his growing. As Jim got older, however, he would be sucseptible to a wide range of issues that could crop up from leaving his wings constrained for large portions of the day, and Len wasn't about to let that happen as long as he was around. He listened to the water run for a few minutes from his spot on his bed, before pushing himself to his feet. It was too soon; he had only found out a few weeks ago, and as poorly as Jim dealt with a lot of emotional issues, if he pushed now, Jim would just shut down. That was the last thing he wanted to happen. Len heaved a deep sigh, listening again to the sounds of Jim trying to fit himself into the shower, then dug out his reds and got redressed. Jim wandered out sometime later with a towel wrapped around his waist, staying only long enough to grab his bag and disappear back into the bathroom again. Len couldn't help but chuckle as the younger man had obvious issues at getting dressed, the thumps and muffled curses giving Jim away. After a long, painful sounding minute, Jim emerged from the bathroom dressed in his underwear and pants with the top button undone; the sweater, jacket, and harness were thrown over his shoulder, and Len quirked a smile.

"Not enough room in there, Jim?" Jim leveled a dirty look at him before flopping stomach-first onto the couch, letting his wings drape loosely over the couch and onto the floor. Len took one look at the feathers dripping all over his carpet and sat on the edge of the coffee table instead.

"Your bathroom is criminally small, but no, if I don't let my wings dry out for a bit, they get kinda musty under the harness. So do you mind if I hang out here for a bit?" Of course he didn't mind, but he wasn't going to let Jim avoid talking with him, either. Len met Jim's eyes firmly.

"We gonna talk while you air out?" Jim frowned, and Len waited to hear some feeble excuse.

"Yeah, we can." Jim shifted a bit onto his left side, allowing Len to see his face more clearly. "I know I've been avoiding you, it's not- I mean- fuck." Len raised an eyebrow as Jim's cheeks reddened, but decided to take pity and kept his mouth shut. "I think I was waiting for you to suddenly change your mind and decide to do a campus-wide bulletin or something-" His other eyebrow shot up his forehead to join its twin.

"Jim, I wouldn't-" Jim raised a hand, and Len paused.

"I know that, Bones; I think I was trying to convince my subconscious of that too...and not doing too well." Jim wasn't meeting his eyes anymore, and Len leaned in to try and recapture his gaze, reaching a hand out and letting his fingers run through the younger man's hair.

"Considering you've been literally undercover for almost fifteen years, I can see where you might have some issues adjusting." Jim snorted, but turned his head back towards Len.

"You're the only person to find out by accident, you know. John and Doctor Phlox found out because there were no other options." That wasn't what Len had expected to hear. Phlox was obvious, Jim had to get the physicals somehow, but John?

"What do you mean about John finding out like that? I thought you or Chris had told him." Jim shook his head.

"No, I had- er, there was an incident while I was in Mojave and Dad was off-planet when I was sixteen, and he was the only one I could contact." This was new. Len looked expectantly at Jim, but the younger man shook his head. "Nothing big, don't worry about it," Jim said flippantly, and Len grimaced.

"Everytime you say something like that, I imagine fullscale war and widespread dismemberment." The smack to the knee wasn't unexpected.

"Only because you are a crazy, paranoid old man, Bones. Sometimes nothing big really means nothing big." Jim flapped his wings, sending Len scrambling for cover while water drops flew everywhere. The glare he leveled at Jim was brushed off with a smirk. "Sorry, forgot to warn you." Len gave the younger man a one-fingered reply as Jim got to his feet and tucked his wings into his pants, following quickly with the harness. Len watched Jim crush himself back into the damned torture device with a frown before turning away. Maybe after graduation. Jim hissed through his teeth quietly behind him, and Len clenched his fists. No, definitely after graduation.

The call for all third and fourth year cadets to assemble happened shortly before dinnertime, and Len grumbled all the way to the hall, while Jim stayed uncharacteristically quiet. It was clear Jim was worried about the reason for the assembly, and Len wasn't sure quite what to say to him. They filed into the hall without speaking, taking their seats while the rest of the cadets filed in behind them. He looked over at Jim several times, trying to figure out something to reassure him with, but his stiff posture and focused gaze towards the group of admirals sitting in the front of the room kept him from it. The cadets and instructors were all in within minutes, and a quick glance over his left shoulder revealed Chris sitting further up on the other side; he turned his eyes forward as Admiral Barnett began to speak. As the man spoke, his heart plummeted to his gut, and he turned to see Jim's eyes wide and his mouth open in muted surprise. It was exactly as they had both feared. As Jim got to his feet and made his way past Len, Len let his hand brush Jim's leg in a show of support. He saw Commodore Newton meet Jim's eyes for a moment as well as he passed, but he couldn't figure out what the woman had imparted to Jim with that look. Len sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process. The younger man could be an absolute idiot, but an outright cheat? He didn't buy it. But as he looked down and watched Jim approach the lecturn, he couldn't keep the shakiness out of his breathing. If Jim got himself kicked out of Starfleet-

"I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly." Jim was going to fight. Len snorted inwardly at his own stupidity. Of course he was, to give up would basically be to admit to whatever they were accusing him of, and to do that in front of his classmates, fellow cadets, and his own father? Not a chance in hell. The rising whispers made him glance around, noticing as a young man- a young Vulcan man walked down the steps on the other side and approached the other lecturn as Barnett gave the hall a glowing introduction of the man. Commander Spock, lead programmer of the Kobayashi Maru exam, distinguished graduate- Len scowled. Jim was going in at a disadvantage; anything the Commander said would probably be given more weight than anything Jim would claim, and Chris couldn't nor wouldn't interfere with the process as long as it was held according to regulations. Len listened to the proceedings with a frown. Jim had installed a subroutine to pass the test, which probably answered the question of what Jim had been up to the previous evening when he had tried to corner him. He was a doctor, not a programmer, but he knew that had to have been a pretty serious undertaking for a test as notoriously difficult as the Maru. Jim had the brains for it, but he hoped that Jim hadn't dug himself too deep of a hole with this stunt. Jim wasn't backing down, though. The conversations they had had after his other tries at the test flashed through Len's mind as Jim rehashed his beliefs about the test to the commander, who looked skeptical, to put it mildly.

"Then not only did you violate the rules, you also failed to understand the principal lesson." Jim's reply was terse, and Len could tell that the younger man was getting frustrated. If Jim lost his temper, he would lose on the spot. The Vulcan's reply made his jaw drop. "You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk; a captain cannot cheat death." The intake of air from what felt like half the room was audible, and Len clenched his fists as quiet whispering erupted. The instant the commander stated that Jim should understand the no-win scenario better than most, Len knew that this was more than a professional call-out. Jim had gone rigid, and the sliver of profile he could see from his vantage point was comprised of barely restrained fury. This guy was a Vulcan? Talk about bucking the stereotype; the commander's whole posture screamed superiority, and he could tell that Jim could read it just as easily. Len frowned as the situation disentegrated, Jim getting tenser and tenser, and the Vulcan getting increasingly smug. This was not going to end well. The commander was lecturing Jim on the qualities expected in Starfleet captains and addressing him in a tone that made Len think of his third grade teacher; Mr. Valli had believed utterly in the superiority of his generation, and had all but told his class of eight and nine year olds that they wouldn't get far in life, and would grade accordingly. It had been the lowest grades in his entire school career. The fact this Commander Spock reminded him of that bastard made Len dislike him on the spot, even disregarding the fact that it was Jim he was trying to crucify. Len took a closer look at the Vulcan, but found nothing there that didn't keep him from wanting to stalk down to the lecturn and break the man's nose. The commander had made up his mind, that much was obvious; he doubted anything Jim could say would get the man to change his mind. All they could hope for at this point was for Jim to not get expelled. He glanced towards Chris and immediately winced. The older man looked stunned at the proceedings, his eyes darting between Jim and the Vulcan as they sniped; the commander was getting most of the looks, however, which confused Len until the hearing was interrupted by a messenger. Chris had mentioned his first officer several times, a man by the name of- Spock. _Ah_. Len raised an eyebrow as he looked over at the captain one more time. The captain had composed himself, but he could make out a furrowed brow on the older man. Len had a suspicion that this was the first time Chris had seen this side of his future first officer, and it definitely wasn't an appealing one. Barnett held up a hand, quieting the room.

"We've received a distress call from Vulcan." The primary fleet was in the Laurentian System. They were being ordered to report to a ship. Len had done a few short training runs over the last two years, but never out of the solar system; he had figured he would have a few more months to prepare himself for his new reality. He could feel an old familiar quiver in his stomach, but he forced himself to focus on something else. A glance to the lecturns showed Jim still standing there, looking torn between haunted anger and frustration, and he made his way through the crowd down to the younger man's side. Jim didn't look at him when he approached, and Len patted his friend on the shoulder as he followed his gaze to the direction the commander had gone.

"So that was Commander Spock. For someone he picked, I didn't expect him to be such a bastard." Jim was still too tense, and Len knew he needed to get the man to calm down before he did something he would regret.

"Well, even for being a bastard...you know? I kinda like him." He walked off before Jim could reply, but the sputtering behind him told him that he had been successful. Anything to take Jim's mind off of the shit the commander had been spewing. Jim caught up to him, and Len's lips quirked as a solid punch landed on his right bicep.

"Asshole." The distant look was gone from the blue eyes, and Len did what was expected of him and raised an eyebrow at the younger man's pout.

"Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check." Jim's middle finger was the only answer as they entered the hangar, filing in with the rest of their barracks group (a term that had always been a misnomer, as two of the group lived off-campus, and not all of them were in the same housing complexes.) The officers calling the assignments were wasting no time, and the assignment to the Enterprise less than a minute later came as no surprise. Len was the highest ranked cadet in his class on the Medical track, and he knew he wasn't going to be assigned to one of the older buckets unless he had seriously pissed someone off. He was pretty sure it had been a few weeks since he last had, anyhow. It was between the Enterprise, the Hood, or the Jiameng, all of them the newest ships in Starfleet; the Jiameng wasn't in Spacedock, however, so it had been a coin toss. The Enterprise was the newest, however, and was by far the desired posting for much of their class. Len was so busy musing that he almost didn't notice that the assignments had all been handed out, and he didn't remember hearing Jim's name. Maybe he missed it.

"They didn't call my name." No, he hadn't missed it. Jim chased after the commander, and he followed, keeping a slower pace. He overheard the words academic suspension, and grimaced as the officer walked off, leaving Jim staring after him. This was bad, but he couldn't see any way around it. Jim would have to wait until after they got back, hopefully it wouldn't be more than a few days or so.

"Jim, the board will rule in your favor-" Len paused, but he had already started. "-most likely." Jim's shoulders sagged, but he didn't turn around; Len looked absently at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what to say, but nothing came to mind. "Jim, I gotta go." Jim stiffened, but spun around on his heel to face him, his eyes far shinier than they had been only thirty seconds earlier. It was like looking at a whipped puppy, and Len felt his resolve crumbling as the other man reached out an arm, giving him a firm handshake.

"Yeah, go- go, be safe. Keep an eye on the old man for me, would you?" Jim ended his little speech with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and Len could only nod as he forced himself to turn and walk towards his shuttle. He had only made it halfway there before he stopped, clenching his teeth and rolling his eyes. He couldn't leave Jim like that, leave him standing in the middle of the hangar looking like a broken toy. There was only one way he could get Jim on the ship with him, and it was risky. There was a small infirmary attached to the side of the hangar, that would do the trick. Turning back towards Jim, who was still standing in the same place, staring into space and shuffling his feet, he knew he had no choice. He came up behind him, grabbing at his sleeve to get his attention.

"Come with me." Jim followed without arguing, but he only lasted a short while before he spoke up.

"Bones, where are we going?" Len put a hand up to stall any further questions.

"You'll see." Jim frowned, but followed him into the infirmary, the frown fading to confusion as Len grabbed an empty hypospray and a vial of Malvaran Mud Flea vaccine. It was the best one for what he needed to happen; the vaccine caused the symptoms to present for about thirty minutes, but faded without further issue. It would be long enough to get Jim onboard the ship and still technically be sick.

"I'm doing you a favor, Jim; I couldn't leave you looking all pathetic like that." Jim's eyeroll was expected, but the younger man didn't deny it. "I'm going to give you a vaccine against Malvaran Mud Fleas." Len pulled lightly at Jim's collar with one hand, injecting the hypospray with the other, causing Jim to flinch.

"What for?" Jim was a talented whiner, but they didn't have time for it.

"To give you the symptoms." Len walked over to the supply cabinet, grabbing a small emergency sachel with a basic collection of hypos. If he was going to bring Jim on as a medical case, he had to look like he was prepared for a medical emergency. Jim whined again behind him, his voice tinged with a little roughness that hadn't been there seconds prior. He couldn't complain about the speed of delivery in this case. By the time he approached, Jim was already looking puny, and Len forced himself to keep on his serious doctor face as he all but picked Jim up off the bed he was sitting on, reciting the symptoms as he hauled the younger man all too easily out of the room.

"You call this a favor?" Jim was honestly feeling like shit now, but it would pass soon enough. Readjusting his arm around Jim's waist, he lifted the man a little more upright.

"Yeah, you owe me one."

* * *

In hindsight, he really should have thought this out. As Len discarded his cadet reds into the laundry, he sighed. Jim was going to get him in trouble, and this time, he had no one to blame but himself. He liked to think that he was immune to Jim's charms, however unconsciously the younger man seemed to apply them; but that would be a massive delusion. God, he was fucked. He had managed to get Jim on the ship, avoid the Vulcan; he had even managed to get Jim dressed and to Sickbay without interference. What the hell was Jim going to do on the ship? Getting him on was one thing, but being a stowaway had its downsides. Would he just stay in Sickbay the whole time? Len pulled on the blue uniform shirt, plucking at the neck absently. No, that wouldn't work; he couldn't just keep shooting Jim up with the vaccine to keep him sick, and a perfectly healthy cadet hanging around Sickbay would be questioned immediately. Knowing Jim, he would sneak out as soon as he woke up, probably try and integrate himself somewhere on the ship where people wouldn't ask any questions...which was nowhere. He knew Jim would spin one hell of a yarn to try to keep Len from getting in trouble, even if the evidence was completely obvious...and that was a whole other issue entirely. Len ran a hand through his hair before checking himself over; once he was satisfied he was assembled correctly, he decided to go check on his rather large problem he had sedated in Sickbay. Jim was going to be the death of him someday, he just knew it. He nodded to Nurse Chapel as he reentered, scanning the area before returning to Jim's bedside. He had frozen the biobed's monitoring functions, afraid that something would give Jim's secret away; he was pleased to see that none of the staff had noticed in the short time he was gone. Any other time, he would have been unhappy with the oversight, but not today.

"Doctor McCoy, Doctor Puri wants you to double-check the drug inventories." Len nodded at Chapel, listening to the shipwide broadcast that had just started with his other ear. Chapel had always been easy to work with, in the few times they had worked together. She tended not to linger on pleasantries, getting straight to the point when it was needed. He liked that in a person. Focusing more on the broadcast, he frowned. The kid mentioned seismic anomalies; earthquakes could cause all sorts of injuries, everything from broken limbs to heart attacks. This was probably going to be a busy next few days, if it was bad enough. The broadcast came to an end, and Jim bolted awake only a second later, mumbling something Len didn't quite catch. Walking back over to the younger man, he gave him a wry smile.

"Jim, you're awake." Then he looked down, and the words came out before he could stop himself. "God god, man!" Jim's hands were three times their normal size, a sure sign of allergic reaction to something- probably the vaccine. Damnit. He had never seen Jim's medical records, and he was mentally kicking himself as he began to chase after Jim, who had bolted out of Sickbay like his ass was on fire. He could have done serious damage to Jim if he had picked the wrong thing. He didn't remember hysterics being part of the side effects of the vaccine, but Jim was definitely going on about something; he managed to get in a hypospray of digoxin to calm his heart rate down before they were off again, darting between crewmembers as the younger man looked for someone, skidding to a halt as they came up on Uhura, who looked flabbergasted at their entrance. Then he treated Jim's sudden numb tongue as they spoke about Romulans, of all things...then they were off again, Uhura in tow, and this time it was to the Bridge, from the looks of it. Shit. The last hypo seemed to have done the trick, as Jim's hands were back to normal, just in time to come face to face with Captain Pike. They were both fucked. "Jim, wait!" The doors to the bridge hissed open, and it was too late. Chris- no, the Captain, was already on his feet, and he looked furious.

"Kirk, how in the hell did you get on board?" He didn't just look furious, he was pissed. Len scrambled for something that would salvage the situation, spitting out the first thing that came to mind.

"Sir, Kirk is having a severe allergic reaction to a vaccine-"

"Bones, I've got this."

"He's-" Jim put a hand on his chest, and Len snapped his mouth closed as Jim faced his father and looked him straight in the eye.

"Sir, Vulcan is not experiencing a natural disaster, it's being attacked by Romulans." Pike gave his son a dark look, before glancing over at Len.

"Romulans? Cadet Kirk, I think you need to settle down. McCoy, take him back to medical, we'll have words later." Captain Pike still sounded angry, but there was a thread of something else that Len was pretty sure was concern in his voice, which didn't really surprise him. Jim wasn't prone to hysterics. It didn't matter, they were still both completely screwed. Len reached out to grasp Jim's arm, but the younger man stepped away as he continued talking to the Captain, his voice strong and clear, even though it was obvious he was trying to get whatever he wanted to say out before he was stopped again. Len was so busy watching the body language of father and son that he didn't notice Spock until he had interjected, crowding Jim in what was clearly an aggressive manner as he started laying into the other man without remorse. The next time someone tried to tell him that Vulcans had no emotions, he was going to laugh in their face. Spock began to move in even closer, and Len realized that this was swiftly reaching the level of lost cause, if it hadn't already flown past it with streamers attached to the nacelles. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the Captain, who moved smoothly in-between his first officer and his son, forcing Spock to retreat back a few steps. Jim took the silence that fell to finish his story and indicate Uhura, who had been watching the argument in a nervous silence, clearly a bit reluctant to get between the three men. Len didn't blame her one bit. Uhura confirmed what Jim had said about an attack against a Klingon armada, and he didn't have the faintest clue as to how Jim had found that out, but it wasn't important. Pike's expression went from irritated to commanding, and as the ship went on red alert, Len braced himself a few meters away from Jim as the helmsman counted down to the drop out of warp.

Len had seen horrible things in his time as a doctor, but nothing could have prepared him for what was plain on the screen. The wreckage of what had been a small armada of starships lay scattered around Vulcan space, most broken into pieces too small to identify their origin, but the massive remnant of the saucer section of the Howe brought reality into sharp focus as they maneuvered under it. Their classmates had been on these ships, as well as many of their instructors and other personnel they had interacted with, people he had just spoken with hours earlier; Len looked at the screen with growing horror as a massive ship came into view in the distance. He sure as hell hoped this wouldn't be one of the shortest careers in Starfleet history, but the big fucking ship may have other ideas for them. He was right. He managed to hold on as the torpedos struck the ship, sending them all lurching to the side as the ship looped around to face the attacking vessel. Len glanced over at Jim, but Jim only had eyes for the battle. If his wings had been visible, Len had no doubt that they would be flared around him; the younger man's pupils were but pinholes in the sky blue canvas of his irises, and Len forced his own gaze back to the viewscreen before he could get lost in them. Jim was no angel, despite what the sillier side of his subconscious may have claimed, but a hunter? As the viewscreen flickered and the tattooed visage of the commander of the enemy ship focused, the narrowing of Jim's eyes answered the question for them. If they made it out of this, Starfleet wasn't going to know what hit them. Len let his attention switch to back to the Romulan on the screen, just as he delivered what was probably one of the most surreal greetings ever.

"Hello." Len's eyes widened as Captain Pike and Nero exchanged introductions and Pike did the obligatory offer to negotiate before the subject switched to Spock, who looked as confused as the rest of them as Nero spoke to him like he was an old...enemy. Len doubted that the commander was that good of an actor to reliably hide if he was acquainted with a Romulan terrorist when faced with it directly, and Spock's continuing obvious befuddlement spoke to the Romulan being full of shit. Nero didn't look like sanity was high on his list of personal qualities, anyhow. He did, however, like stealing Starfleet captains. As the bastard commanded the captain to pilot a shuttle and come to the Narada alone, Len blanched and looked over at Jim, who had gone a shade that almost matched the cool white interior of the bridge; the younger man's hands were claws wrapped around the rail, and if looks could kill, Nero would have been dead on the spot. Nero signed off, and Jim barely waited for the screen to clear before he started in on his father.

"He'll _kill_ you, Captain! You know that-" Jim moved around the rail, moving right up to the older man as he spoke. Len held back, knowing that his interference wouldn't be seen well here; Pike knew his position on the subject without asking, anyhow. For the first time, Spock appeared to be in agreement with Jim, also moving around to confront the captain, if not quite getting in his face like Jim was centimeters away from doing.

"Your survival in this situation does seem unlikely." The captain was frowning, and Len could see a flash of regret as he looked at his son; Jim looked like he was seconds away from knocking his father unconscious to keep him from leaving, but that wasn't an option. Not when it was clear that the enemy ship could blow them apart without exerting much effort. Captain Pike would use any method at his disposal to try and find a way out of this mess, even if that meant being- Len's chest tightened, and he watched through a dawning feeling of inevitability as the older man looked for volunteers for whatever he had up his sleeve. Chris was going to be the sacrificial lamb, the diversion; the hyper-focused look on the captain's face spoke of acceptance, and the only time the man's eyes showed any other expression is when he looked at Jim- and even that was momentary. He didn't expect to survive. Len couldn't see any way around the demand that wouldn't get them blown to bits like the rest of the armada, but- it was a truth that he didn't want to accept. Len managed to meet the captain's eyes for a split-second as he and his entourage headed towards the turbolift, making sure he poured every bit of concern and censure he could into his expression, and he was awarded with a look of understanding, before the older man's gaze shifted to Jim, then returned to him. As the doors closed, Len sighed and waited for the lift to depart. He knew exactly what that had meant, and he refused to accept it. Chris was going to pull something out of his ass and survive this. There was no other option in his mind.

* * *

Len returned to Sickbay feeling numb. He had no idea what Jim was going to be doing, but he had the feeling it wouldn't be much better than what his father was planning. What was the man thinking, handing himself over to those bastards- Len stepped into Sickbay and froze, taking in the sight in front of him. The lights were mostly out and the back wall was partially gone, a structural integrity field the only block between them and open space; sparks and open panelling was everywhere, and the medical staff that was standing were trying to assess the ones that were not. Len squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He would deal with things later; it was time to get to work now. A quick assessment of the area led him to believe that the front third of Sickbay had survived relatively unscathed, the middle third was moderately damaged, and the back stretch was all but inaccessible at this point. Spotting Chapel helping one of the other nurses to a bed, he approached her first.

"Chapel, where's Doctor Puri?" The woman turned towards him, the large purpling bruise on her jaw not keeping her from shaking her head.

"He was in the back." Dead. That left Doctor M'Benga, a young man around Jim's age who had recently returned from a specialized course on Vulcan medicine, and him. He was the senior officer here, as ridiculous and not as he felt it was, considering he was still a cadet, but it didn't matter. He was now the new Chief Medical Officer. Hell of a way to get a promotion. Moving to check on another nurse lying on the floor, he gently grasped her shoulder and rolled her over. Also dead. Len sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, before looking up to see M'Benga and a few of the others moving covered bodies towards the door.

"The morgue?" M'Benga shook his head.

"It's partially intact, from what we can see, but the damage is too extensive right now to access it. We've claimed a few of the unassigned quarters for now to store the bodies. Luckily, the atmospheric controls are still functioning, so we can set the temperatures as low as we need them for now. It's not ideal, but-" Len nodded, before taking the deceased nurse in his arms and placing her on the closest gurney. Her sightless eyes were staring at the ceiling, and he leaned over and closed them before covering her with a sheet. Turning back to the younger doctor, he nodded again.

"It's what we have to do. Hopefully we can get repairs in, but we can't have the deceased sit around in Sickbay in the mean time." Len paused, then looked up at M'Benga again. "We need to set up an overflow triage in the closest cargo bay or rec room we can get to, maybe two so we can eventually move the bodies to one. The critical cases will go through here, but we'll have a lot of minor injuries that we can't have clogging up the biobeds at this point." M'Benga nodded.

"Right." Len set to work clearing the mess; the delay in his arrival meant that most of the corpses had been moved already, and he decided to set about checking on the living instead. The wall comm rung out with Commander Spock's calm tones requesting Doctor Puri, and he ran over and slammed his hand on the button, wiping the sweat off his face as he did so. After enlightening the Vulcan of the situation in one of the most pointless conversations of the day, he returned to his work just as the injuries from other parts of the ship began to trickle in. Some came in under their own power and some didn't, and he triaged them quickly as the remaining staff got to work. This was his element; he hoped he would never have to be the one on the bridge deciding everyone's fate, but he damn well knew what to do in Sickbay. The injuries poured in, and he assigned a few of the staff to deal with the minor injuries while he and M'Benga tackled the more dire cases. Sickbay was overflowing in a matter of minutes, and he instructed the staff to deal with the smaller problems outside, if possible. They simply didn't have the room. He paid no attention to the passage of time as he worked, moving from person to person until another communication from the bridge broke through the fog.

"We've managed to secure seven escape pods from the wreakage, and we will be scanning the debris for more survivors shortly. Please send a team to Shuttlebay immediately."

"Acknowledged." Len grimaced as he took a swift look around the room. The minor cases would have to wait. "Borsato! Rose! John! We've got survivors being brought into Shuttlebay, we'll need to leave the minor injuries for later. Bring back anyone who needs medical attention."

"Yessir!" He turned back to his work, only looking back up when the nurses returned with four people in their wake, only one of them needing support. That was either a good sign for the survivors, or...not.

"Doctor McCoy!" Len looked up at Borsato, who was waving him over urgently. Leaving his current patient's side, he walked over to the older man, who was trying to reassure the young ensign he had brought in. Len assessed her with a quick scan; there was a piece of shrapnel embedded in her gut, and it had taken out one of her kidneys. All he could do right now was stabilize her and hope that she pulled through, even with such a nasty wound, she was far from the most injured patient there.

"-was horrible, everyone was yelling and trying to evacuate, but the ship-" The woman's voice broke as he grabbed a hypospray of sedative and gently depressed it into her neck.

"Start getting her prepped for surgery, Borsato. I'll be back when I can." The nurse looked like he was going to argue, but a stern glare from Len shut him up before he could get a sound out.

"Yessir." Len tried to give the other man some sort of reassurance with his eyes, but it fell flat. This wasn't any time for impotent words; all he could do is keep doing his job and try to keep everyone alive. He lost track of time as he hustled from one bedside to the next, noting absently when a few more people were led into Sickbay in varying stages of shock; M'Benga reached them first, and he let the other doctor do the assessments as he kept his focus on the patients. He was roused from his work from yet another message, and he stalked over to the comm to answer it.

"We have a small contingent of Vulcan elders that need medical attention, they will be arriving at Sickbay shortly." Len acknowledged the news, then signaled M'Benga to keep an eye out as he returned to an engineer's side, setting about knitting up a sizable gash in his thigh that had nicked the femoral artery. The man was lucky to be alive. Twenty-two dead from the Enterprise, and fourteen more critical so far, and that didn't include the Vulcans. The fact that five of the casualties were medical personnel made the situation even more painful. As a small parade of Vulcans entered Sickbay, he finished up with the engineer and approached the group, visually assessing them before signalling a slow-moving dark-skinned male elder to a bed. He almost didn't notice Jim enter shortly thereafter, along with the helmsman, and after a quick eyeballing showed what appeared to be mostly bruises and scrapes, he forced himself to pay attention to his own patient. Sickbay was already calming down, but he wouldn't have time to talk to Jim for awhile. As he checked over the elder, he would have been an idiot not to notice the bleak atmosphere that had settled firmly over Sickbay. The elder was only answering the questions asked, not volunteering any information; he wasn't a master of Human-Vulcan relations, but this was worse than usual. He was certain of it. He could see Jim rise to his feet out of the corner of his eye, cracking his neck from side to side, and he managed to catch his attention with a pointed look. _What happened_? He mouthed to the younger man, and Jim shook his head. _Vulcan's gone_. Len's mouth dropped of its own accord, and Jim grimaced momentarily before nodding respectfully to the elders before leaving Sickbay, leaving Len to attempt to digest the information on his own. An entire planet, gone; it was unbelievable. If it had been any other time, he would have assumed that he had misunderstood, had misheard; but one look at the countenances of the Vulcans currently lingering in Sickbay told him that the truth was exactly as horrible as Jim had stated. Len took a deep breath, before signalling the female elder that had accompanied the man to sit on the biobed, so he could look her over. He would keep doing his job, it was better than dwelling on the idea that an entire planet could be destroyed in the matter of minutes, killing billions of people in its wake.

* * *

Commander Spock wanted to brief the senior officers on the bridge, so Len had joined Jim in looking out on the sparse remnants of the battle from the viewscreen. Spock had fortunately timed his orders to right shortly after all serious and critical cases had stabilized as well as they were going to get them, so he wouldn't need to rush back to Sickbay immediately. Jim was a ball of tension; Len could see the harsh set of his shoulders and the even stiffer lines of his false back and knew it for what it was, but the younger man tried to disguise it by first lounging in the captain's chair, then after being evicted from that, he set about leaning on one of the rails with a blank look on his face. Jim believed that the Romulans were going to attack Earth, then move on to the rest of the Federation; that was one hell of a statement, but Len could see why he thought so. Jim was tense, but Len wasn't much better; it had been a very long time since he had been a nail-biter, but he couldn't stop himself from resting his fingertips against his lips nervously as they attempted to figure out just how the Romulans had managed to destroy an entire planet. Good god, he was never going to be able to wrap his head around that, and Spock confirmed as such when he brought up time travel as a possible answer. Len had managed to get his fingers away from his mouth, crossing his arms instead; but the instant Spock's hypothesis was out in the air, Len started waving his hands wildly as he glared at the Vulcan.

"-are you actually suggesting they're from the _future_?" When Spock raised one of his eyebrows and quoted _Sherlock Holmes_, of all things, in reply, he could have socked the man. Len looked over at Jim as the other man pushed himself away from the railing, his jaw set and his eyes distant; Len had only seen that look on Jim's face on a few occasions, and there was only one reason he would have it now. What happened to Chris was an unfortunate possibility of working in any sort of military organization, but he knew that Jim would exhaust any reasonable resources if it meant getting his dad back. Len could only hope that Jim wouldn't lose both of his fathers to selfless acts of sacrifice, against the same ship, no less, but it wasn't looking promising at this point. Jim questioned the assembled officers as to why Captain Pike would have been taken, the helmsman- Sulu, Len remembered, responded with a mention about planetary defenses, and Jim seemed to accept that before looking the acting Captain straight in the eye and demanding that the Enterprise needed to engage the enemy ship to disable it and get Captain Pike back. The bridge had gone silent as Jim had laid out his proposal, and Spock took less then a second to shoot it down as illogical; Len could see the anger building in Jim's eyes, but there was no way he could diffuse the situation at this junction. The navigator, a curly-haired kid who looked only a few years older than his daughter, mentioned that they wouldn't be able to overtake the ship unless they dropped from warp; Jim's idea about overcoming that obstacle was again overridden without pretense, and Len could again see the fury flash in Jim's eyes as he stalked down to confront Spock, who was looking far too level-headed for the situation at hand. This wasn't going to end well. Jim appeared to be grasping for straws by this point, and even Len could see the fallacy in his idea about Nero knowing how the future was going to proceed; Spock countered cleanly with the concept of an entirely new future, and Len looked over as Uhura, who had stayed to the side grim-faced as the others had thrown out their ideas, spoke up for the first time.

"An alternate reality." Her words were almost tentative, and Len really couldn't blame her. The idea that their whole future had been rewritten just because this Romulan deathship from the future had tumbled through was jarring, at the very least. Spock showed none of that hesitation, and he couldn't help feel a little bitter about that.

"Precisely." The acting Captain gave Jim a dismissive glance, before turning his back on the other man and returning to the Captain's chair, vocalizing the thoughts that had just run through Len's head before ordering Sulu to head to the Laurentian system. To say Jim was unhappy with the decision was an understatement. He stalked up to the Captain's chair, rage clear on his face and in his tone as he all but yelled at the Vulcan; Len tried to interject before the kid dug his grave further, but Jim was too far gone in his anger. The volume of his voice spiked, Spock's eyebrow twitched with obvious irritation, and Len knew that Jim had just lost. Security was called, and as the two men wrapped their arms around Jim's, Jim lifted his gaze from Spock and looked Len straight in the eye; the depth of emotion he could see in those blue eyes he loved so much was painful to absorb, with rage and fury right alongside concern and desperation, and Len couldn't get his brain together enough to say anything under that gaze. Jim hated being restrained, hated people being so close to his back without permission, and Len realized too late that he had seen this same scenario in at least one bar in the past. As Jim slugged one man, then elbowed the other in the gut, Len was frozen; torn between what would have been his natural instinct of defending the younger man and the realization that Jim had truly gone too far, and he could only watch helplessly as Spock came up from behind Jim and did some sort of pinch to the upper part of the trapezius, dropping him like a rock. The security officers were grabbing him and hauling him away at the Vulcan's command before he could check on him, and he watched Jim's slumped form disappear through the turbolift doors in a daze. A touch to his arm brought him out of his reverie, and Len looked down at Uhura, who gave him a look that he couldn't decide was either sympathy or understanding before turning back to her duties. Spock had resettled in his chair by this point, and Len leveled a blistering glare at the back of the acting captain's head before storming off the bridge. If he said anything now, he would just get himself booted off the ship along with Jim, and that wouldn't solve a damn thing.

Even if it would make him feel better.

* * *

Len had barely gotten settled back in Sickbay when Spock called him back to the bridge, and he found himself wishing that the comms were built a little flimsier as he smashed his fist into the button to end the call, attracting more than a few curious looks from the staff as he growled and stormed out of the room. Why the hell would the Vulcan want to talk to him? He could only hope this was related to, well, his job, but his gut told him differently. If the bastard was calling him up just to rub his decision in Len's face, he wasn't going to be responsible for his actions. The turbolift slid to a stop, and he took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists as the door opened. Punching the acting captain in his Vulcan nose would be a bad idea from any angle. One more breath, and Len squared his shoulders and approached Spock, who was sitting in the captain's chair like he was a boy on his first day of school, stiff and almost uncomfortable. It looked wrong. Pike had clearly belonged in the chair, and Jim had looked...a lot like his dad when he had done the same for that short period of time. There was an ease there that Spock didn't have, and not for the first time, Len found himself wondering what Chris would think of the clusterfuck of a situation they had found themselves in. He had no doubt that Spock was a good officer, Chris would have never chosen him otherwise as First Officer, but whether the man was a good captain or not remained to be seen.

"You wanted to see me?" Len's voice held absolutely no enthusiasm, but Spock appeared to make no note of his dry tone as he looked up and started to rise.

"Yes- Doctor." Len expected to be called out for bringing Jim onboard, to give a report on the current status of Sickbay, even to answer an inquiry on the health of the Vulcan elders; anything but the odd statement that almost thanked him for his support of the Jim fiasco that made him clench his fists again, his mouth turning into a tight line as he didn't bother censoring his response.

"Is that a thank you?" It was almost invisible, but Len could see Spock's shoulders tighten at his tone, and the other man took a moment before responding.

"I am merely acknowleging your difficulties." He could have laughed. Instead, he decided to go for it.

"Permission to speak freely- sir." Spock turned to face him, a slight raise of the eyebrow the only evidence of emotion beyond the usual status quo.

"I welcome it." Len had given everyone from Jim to idiot kids who had stuck styluses in their ears the look he shot Spock, the one that usually caused Jim to try to change the subject and kids to make up excuses as to why he was stuck extracting the implement from their ear canals, but the Vulcan didn't so much as blink. Figures.

"Do you. Okay, then-" He took a deep breath, looking absently to the side before leveling a firm glare on the other man. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind?" He registered that he actually recieved a raise of both eyebrows and a slight widening of the eyes in reaction to his query, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Len voiced his understanding that Jim had gotten out of hand, even understanding the logical merits of removing the problem as he did, but that it probably wasn't a wise choice. As he mentioned some old adage about stallions and the Kentucky Derby that came to mind, Spock looked almost amused at his choice, and Len knew he had taken the wrong tack. Damnit. The acting captain dismissed the analogy with the inference that Jim would only be useful once he was broken in, a both chilling and disturbing thought that made his hackles rise again. Jim was no creature to be trained into submission; in fact, the Starfleet courses had only refined his natural independence, given it strength and command, and although he was far from perfect, he was definitely not the type of person someone like Spock could ever hope to control. Len let his own anger, both at the situation and at the man's cold dismissal of Jim as a little more than a nuisance show on his features as he growled back at the Vulcan.

"My god, man; you could have least acted like it was a hard decision!" It clearly hadn't been, and if the flippant remark that followed was any marker, the _acting captain_ would do it again in a heartbeat. Len didn't trust himself to speak again, and the sound of one of the doors behind him signalled the end of their discussion. Spock blinked, before looking over his shoulder.

"Excuse me." One of the Vulcans, one he hadn't seen before had come to the bridge, and Len watched Spock walk off with the other man in silence.

"Green-blooded hobgoblin," he snarled, walking back to the turbolift and signalling it for Deck Five. If Jim got injured at all on the planet they shot him on to, Len was done with restraint. He had a nice hypo of Kamaraazite flu vaccine that he would gladly introduce to the Vulcan if it came to that. Len reentered Sickbay to one of the critical patients crashing, and he was forced to set his increasingly ridiculous thoughts of vengence aside as he got to work.

* * *

Jim had managed to get back to the ship. Jim had managed to get back to the ship with a friendly looking guy who was wisely staying to the side as Jim taunted Spock in as cruel a manner as Len had ever seen out of the younger man, his comments clearly targeted to get a rise out of the Vulcan. He was once again feeling impotent as he watched the situation degenerate in front of him; he hated the fact that he kept being driven to this point, forced to stand by and do nothing as Jim buried himself even further this time, and the only consolation, not that it was much of one, was that the rest of the bridge looked just as lost as he did. There was a core difference this time around, however, and one glance at the almost mischievious look in Jim's eyes confirmed it. Unlike earlier, where Jim had legitimately lost it during the argument over their plans, the younger man was firmly in control of he and Spock's discussion- and it was Spock who was beginning to crack around the edges this time. As the acting captain's eyes narrowed and his shoulders stiffened further, Len remembered absently that Vulcans were physically much stronger than humans. It was a basic fact that any one who took a course in xenobiology knew, and he just hoped that Jim remembered this as well. He had a feeling that it wouldn't matter if he did or not. Len couldn't say he was surprised when the fist came out of nowhere, knocking Jim off balance and sending him back into Lieutenant Smithson, who had hauled Jim up to the bridge in the first place; the other stowaway backed away from the fight with his hands held up, but it was clear that Spock only had eyes for Jim as he grabbed the other man and threw him away from him. Jim leaned forward enough to cushion his back against the blow, but he had no time before Spock lunged at him again; Len could see Jim do a half-hearted attempt at fighting back, but he had no chance in hell short of Spock tripping and knocking himself unconscious. They could only hope, at this point. Spock caught Jim's cheek at one point, his head snapping to the side as he was shoved harshly towards the consoles closest to the viewscreen; Jim managed to parry the next hit only to leave his sides exposed, and Len didn't know how Spock hadn't noticed that something was a bit strangely padded about the sides he had just hit, but it only proved that the Vulcan was out of control. The punch to the throat that followed made his heart stutter and his brain run through ways of fixing a crushed trachea, but it was clear that it was meant to stun, or Jim would be on the floor already. Jim staggered against the side of one of the consoles, managing to move a few steps away from his attacker before Spock was there, grabbing Jim by the neck and lifting him momentarily before smashing him down into the console with an chilling crack that made Len take a step forward. That wasn't just the console that had made that noise, he was certain of it; he could picture how the fine bones of Jim's wings were grouped together by the harness, could picture how easy it would be to break one of those bones when just the wrong amount of pressure was applied, but it was hard to confirm when Jim was getting the life squeezed out of him by an out-of-control Vulcan. Spock was going to_ kill him_, and none of the gawkers, himself included, could get their brains together enough to stop the assault. Len took another halting step forward, raising a hand automatically, when he was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

"Spock." The Vulcan he had seen Spock speaking with earlier had managed to instill equal parts authority and censure into his voice, and Len realized that the man wasn't just any random Vulcan. A long moment passed after the elder spoke, and Len didn't know if he was imagining Jim's windpipe creaking as Spock tightened his grip; Spock's face was distorted in rage as his father's single word seemed to finally penetrate his brain. He released Jim, staggering back with horror flashing across his features as Jim lay on the console coughing and gasping for air. For a brief, heart-clenching moment, he looked too much like the corpses they had had to move to other parts of the ship, his pale eyes and blood-drained face staring up at nothing even as he coughed, and Len felt a surge of anger lance through him at the sight, convieniently smothering the fear that had been creeping since the instant the fight began. What had the idiot been thinking? Spock could have killed him; _would_ have killed him had Spock's father not interfered, and Jim knew it. He hadn't really fought back against the rampaging Vulcan, sticking primarily to defensive blocks that did little to shield himself from the stronger man's attacks. Len was so angry that when the shaken Spock approached him, telling him to make a record of his resignation as acting captain, he didn't say a damn thing. Turning to Jim, who had managed to regain his feet, he exploded.

"Well done, Jim; now we've got no captain and goddamned first officer to replace him." Jim didn't even look at him as he replied, and Len ended up focusing on the back of Jim's head as the younger man pushed himself away from the console, making sure he didn't look below Jim's neck. He didn't want to deal with the possibility that Jim was truly injured, not when he was so goddamned furious with the man.

"Yeah, we do." Jim walked up to the abandoned captain's chair, turning around and lowering himself gingerly as Len boggled. Sulu, of all people, tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"Pike did make him first officer." Sulu was too damn calm, but he hadn't just watched his best friend get the shit beat out of him in some self-sacrificing stunt that Len was going to throttle him over later.

"You've got to be kidding me!" That finally got him eye-contact from Jim, who looked both bemused, and maybe a little hurt at his outburst. Len didn't really care at this point. Pike, that wily bastard, was probably laughing at them now, dead or alive. He had obviously seen the depth of tension between the two men, and he had put Jim straight into a position that would force him to interact with Spock. Len was going to yell at him until his ears were bleeding as soon as Jim got him back.

"Thanks for the support." Jim knew he was mad, and chose to ignore it. Scratch that, he was going to _kill_ Pike for making him have to deal with _both_ of them. Uhura just gave Jim one of those level looks of hers, marred slightly by the rollercoaster of emotion that she had clearly felt during the newest clusterfuck before saying her piece, and Jim responded with the most level-headed thing any of them had said in the last ten minutes. Jim looked out towards the viewscreen as he hit a button on the arm of the chair, announcing his intentions to the ship. There was no surprise at his orders, and Len watched as Sulu and the kid laid in a new course without being prompted. They were going to go for it; all he could hope is that they would survive the outcome.

* * *

"Bones, I'm fine. Fuss over me later." Len needed to see under the harness to double-check the wings that he feared were more than just bruised, but it was clear that Jim had no intention of allowing it right now, not when they were trying to figure out how to sneak up on a blasted death ship from the future. A few minutes of ideas and theories yielded as solid of a plan as they would probably get, courtesy of Chekov, the curly-haired kid who was only _seventeen_, and Scott, the stowaway that turned out to be a Lieutenant-Commander who had pissed off the wrong guy and gotten reassigned to Icy Death Planet. Len tried to ask what happened, but was cut off by Jim, who shook his head and mouthed later with a barely restrained smirk on his face. That was interesting. The meeting got even more interesting as Spock returned the bridge, looking calmer than Len had ever seen him; he may not be friends with the guy, but he could certainly understand emotional turmoil at its worst, and in a species like the Vulcans, who so highly prized control, it was clearly far more devastating when that control failed. He had probably spoken with his father after he had left, and the quarter-smile and the assertation that since his mother was human, Earth was the only home he had left clinched it. Len managed to keep his surprise mostly internal at the revelation, although he could feel his eyebrow twitching up. Maybe the whole half-Vulcan thing made it harder for Spock to control his emotions, he honestly didn't know; he simply hadn't encountered enough Vulcans for a long enough period of time to judge. That was neither here nor there, however. The focus of Spock's newfound serenity turned towards a plan for he and Jim to go over to the Narada and attempt to rescue Captain Pike, as well as try and disable either the ship or the world-destroying weapon. It was suicide, and Len glared at both of them as they tossed the idea back and forth, bantering like Spock hadn't nearly killed Jim less than fifteen minutes prior. Only Jim. It was decided, however, and Len would be stuck waiting and hoping that all three of them would return alive. Realistically, he knew Chris's chances of being alive even now were slim, but there was nothing wrong in hoping for a miracle. Spock tried briefly to dissuade Jim from accompanying him, but everyone on that damn bridge knew that was a lost cause.

"I would cite regulation, but I know you would simply ignore it." The cocky grin that Jim shot Spock after that comment, showing off just a hint of brilliant white teeth that had somehow managed to survive the day's insanity, made the seething worry in Len's gut that hadn't quite settled fade a bit, only to be replaced by irritation as Jim gave an equally cocky statement while he clapped a hand on the Vulcan's shoulder.

"See, we are getting to know each other." That whole do no harm bullshit would be damned six ways to Sunday by the time Len was done with them- and that included Pike. He had already stopped himself from chewing on his nails on several occasions in the last few hours; trust Jim to cause him to relapse on a long-abandoned bad habit. Len followed Jim off the bridge, cornering him in the turbolift.

"Jim, are you certain you're alright? Spock did a number on you, and that doesn't even count your adventures to Delta Vega and...what was it? Doing an jump down to the Romulan weapon and fighting said Romulans? You can't tell me you haven't gotten banged up." Jim shot him a dirty look, but Len was the reigning champion of dirty looks, and after a moment, Jim acquiesed. The younger man sighed, letting his head drop to the side as he hit the button to stop the lift.

"I have to do this, Bones." His boots weren't all that interesting, but Jim was staring at them like they were made from Targ leather. "This fucker is going to blow up Earth if we don't stop him, the orbital defense vessels don't have a chance against it, and the rest of the fleet is days away." Blue eyes met Len's, and held. "If we don't do something, everyone is going to die. If we fail, everyone is going to die anyway, but we'll already be dead, so at least we won't be around to see it. If we succeed, though-" Len took a step closer, reaching out and placing his hand on Jim's shoulder and squeezing lightly. Jim sighed, leaning forward until his forehead was resting against Len's; the two of them stood there silently for a moment as Jim breathed, warm puffs that made Len smile as they carressed his face. He took the hand on Jim's shoulder and ran it up Jim's neck, before cupping the back of the younger man's head.

"Chris will never forgive you if you get yourself killed trying to save him. Keep that in mind." Jim's eyes, which had drifted closed as they stood there, flew open; Len kept his hand firm as Jim tried to push himself away. "Jim, I am certainly not saying not to rescue the man, but don't-" Jim slumped, and he trailed off.

"I know. I'm just hoping that he's still-" It was probably the first time since the mission had begun that Jim had let himself look so uncertain; Len knew that he couldn't be like this in front of the others, but even the greatest military commanders had moments of doubt.

"He'll be there. He's so damn stubborn, he's probably stared down half of the ship to death by this point." The shaky smile Jim shot him in response was probably as good as he was going to get in this situation, and he let his fingers stroke through Jim's short strands before releasing him and taking a step back. "You've gotta get going, strategize with Spock and all that." Jim nodded, but neither of them reached for the panel to restart the lift.

"Yeah." Jim took a deep breath. "Bones, I-" Len shook his head.

"Get back here in enough pieces that I can still put you back together. Bring that pain-in-the-ass father of yours back with you too, I have a score to settle with him." The shaky smile grew into an honest grin, and Jim chuckled, pressing the button that sent the lift back into motion.

"A score, huh?" Len gave an exaggerated scowl and crossed his arms.

"He doesn't pay me enough to put up with you, him _and_ the Vulcan. I plan to have words about that." Jim snorted.

"I look forward to watching that discussion." The door hissed open, and they walked out onto Deck Five together. Len let his fingers brush the back of Jim's left hand.

"Be careful, kid." Jim nodded, turning his head just enough for Len to catch his eye.

"Keep dinner warm for me, dear." Len barked out a surprised laugh, and Jim grinned one last time before turning on his heel and walking in the direction of the transporter room; Len watched the younger man until he disappeared from view, before turning towards Sickbay. He needed to double-check the inventory, and make sure that all of the current patients were settled. It would help him keep his mind off of Jim running around a Romulan ship getting shot at.

* * *

They had lost one of the ensigns while Len was up on the bridge. It hadn't looked good anyway, head injuries of the magnitude the officer had sustained were still often death sentences, even as advanced as medicine was, but he was still a little miffed that they didn't call him when the young man had coded. They were out of body bags, and they were forced to resort to wrapping him mummylike in plastic sheeting before transporting the body to join the others. Twenty-four dead, including Chief Engineer Olson. If Jim and Spock didn't succeed, there would be no reason to keep counting. It just better not be at the addition of number twenty-five, twenty-six, and twenty-seven. The inventory situation was manageable, but not great; too much of the specialized equipment had been destroyed, but the stocks of medicines and more basic medical supplies were holding. Hopefully the Enterprise wouldn't suffer any more direct hits like the one, because he was uncertain that he would be able to make the inventory stretch that far again. He threw himself into his work, forcing himself to stay busy while the ship waited for news.

"What happened on the bridge, Doctor? One minute we are heading to the Laurentian System, the next Kirk is in command and we are chasing the Romulan ship. Quite a jump, there." Chapel. Len turned to face her, noting how tired she looked.

"Why don't you sit down for a minute, Chapel. You deserve a break." They walked into the office together, but the nurse gave Len a dark look as she sat down.

"I can see the gears turning, Doctor. Can you tell me anything?" He wasn't sure what he could say, but the newest event had been just entered into the ship's log, which was as public record as it got. It also wasn't like the scuttlebutt wouldn't have the news all over the ship as soon as things calmed down. He cracked his neck from side to side, wincing at the sound.

"The short answer, and the one that is on the ship's log, is that Commander Spock considered himself emotionally compromised at this current time, and thusly followed regulations and stepped down. Captain Pike had named Kirk First Officer before leaving for the Narada, leading to the current acting captain." Chapel stared at him, obviously hoping he would slip something extra, but he was officially immune to being stared down, especially after the events of today.

"I know you are leaving a whole lot out, Doctor, but I understand your discretion." The blonde woman sighed, running her fingers through light strands before looking back at Len with a smirk. "It's not like anything interesting won't be all over the ship in a matter of hours, anyway." Len quirked an eyebrow.

"Then why did you ask?" Chapel's smirk softened as she rose to her feet; she leaned over and patted his hand before withdrawing.

"Because you needed something to occupy you, even if it was just for a few minutes." Len's eyes went wide, and Chapel chuckled. "Doctor M'Benga might know you better, but even I can see that you were trying to force yourself into your work. It may have been even more obvious after you checked the stock of sanitizing sprays four times before you seemed to realize that you had already done it." Len could feel his cheeks grow warm, and she shook her head. "I'm sure they'll be fine, sir." She gifted him with one last smile, then left the office; he stared at the door blankly until a page on the comm snapped him out of it.

"McCoy."

"Report to the Transporter Room immediately, probable injuries." He didn't even remember signing off. He signaled to Chapel and one of the other nurses as he ran out of Sickbay, refusing to let worst-case scenarios run through his head. Uhura was suddenly right there with them, but he didn't have time to acknowledge her as they pivoted towards the correct doors; the fact that the only sound Len could hear was Mister Scott made his heart skip a beat in fear.

"Jim!" His momentum was such that he barely slowed as he barrelled through the doors, but he did register the squeaking of booted feet coming to a sudden stop behind him as he rushed to Jim's side, ducking a wing that didn't look quite right to retrieve Captain Pike, who looked like he had gone ten rounds with a Klingon...but he was _alive_. It wasn't until he had taken Chris's weight from Jim that his brain realized what was wrong with this picture. Spock had removed himself from the transporter pad, but he was clearly curious; Uhura was frozen, as were Chapel and Domino, and Scott- well, the man was still going on about how amazing his transporter feat had been. If he cared in any particular way, he wasn't showing it. Len looked into Jim's pale and bruised features, remembering just how badly he had handled it only a few weeks prior, but except for a short flicker of hesitation, none of that panic was present. It was probably the adrenaline talking, but it would have to do. A quick glare at his nurses snapped them out of it, and Domino moved to Pike's other side while Jim shot him a look that could only be translated as thanks as he darted from the room, the lights glinting off the white tints in his feathers as he disappeared from his view, Spock and a vaguely shellshocked Uhura in his wake. Talk about a complication that he hadn't even considered, and he didn't have time to dwell on it now. Chris was looking at him as they half-carried him down the corridor to Sickbay, but it wasn't until they had gotten him to a bed that he spoke, his wrecked voice barely above a whisper.

"Take care of him, Leonard." It sounded so final, even more so than that look from before, and Len scowled automatically, shaking his head at the supine man as he scanned him over.

"Don't you start talking like that, Captain. We are going to do our best to get you patched up, so if there's anything specific that happened to you, we need to know _now_." Chris was beginning to drift off, his own rush of energy expended far faster than normal due to his injuries, and Len took the older man's face in his hands and forced him to look at him. "Chris, come on." The captain gave a slow blink as his brow furrowed, and Len was about to beseech the man again when he spoke.

"Ce-Centaurian slug. He- forced it in my mouth-" Chris trailed off, his eyes meeting Len's once more before he lost his fight for consciousness. Goddamnit. He hit a few buttons on the biobed to focus the scan, grimacing as the vermin showed up clear as day in its preferred home around the brain stem. He had only read about them, never seen one nor dealt with it's effects, but he was about to get up close and personal with the little bastard. They were on a limited time frame, the longer the beast remained, the more damage it would inflict.

"Scrub in, we've got an extraction to do." The area was quickly switched over to the surgical theater configuration, and they carefully flipped Captain Pike onto his stomach, strapping him to the bed as they prepped him for surgery. The ship lurched sharply, sending some of his tools to the floor, and Len grabbed at the edge of the bed as it shook yet again, sending Chapel to the floor as well. "What the hell is going on?" He didn't have time to wait for the possibility of the turbulence fading, and grabbed the hypos he needed, double-checking their contents before depressing them into the side of Chris's neck. He had just lifted the last one away when a massive surge of _something_ lifted them all off their feet, and Len ended up in a pile of limbs as the disorienting imbalance continued.

"Did the inertial dampers fail?" Chapel groaned as they untangled themselves, and just as Len had managed to find his footing again, the nauseating wave ended, the ship stabilizing under their feet. He had no way of being certain, and no time to ask, but he had a feeling it was over.

"Rescrub, now!" Chapel and Domino both nodded sharply, and all three of them snapped to their duties. It was time to get to work.

* * *

Len stepped away from the captain's bed as he pulled off his gloves, glancing up at the biobed readings. Chris was alive. It wasn't one-hundred percent certain yet, but he could safely say the outlook was positive. He wasn't able to do everything he would have wanted, but the necessary equipment had been either damaged or destroyed in the initial attack, and he could not risk using damaged equipment; not when he was able to keep the man alive without. He would definitely need additional surgery when they made it back to Earth, however...whenever that was. He nodded to Chapel and Domino, who were doing the cleanup as he exited surgery, rubbing at his eyes. He needed a drink, but that wasn't going to be happening for awhile; not with an entire sickbay filled with varying levels of critical patients, but he could afford a few minutes of peace in the office. Pulling on his shirt, he turned towards the office, the door hissing open in front of him just as he caught a flash of white and gold out of the corner of his eye. It took him a beat to process, before he was spinning around and hurrying to Jim's side. The younger man was unconscious and lying on his back; two gurneys had been set up at the sides of the biobed to rest his wings, and Len's gaze was immediately drawn to the blood and bandages covering the upper part of the left one.

"Geoffrey, what in the hell happened?" M'Benga finished up with his patient and walked over, prodding at the bandage on the wing before turning to Len.

"Commander Spock brought him in shortly after the ship stabilized. Shrapnel had lodged across the length of the the cutaneous ulnar vein in his wing, which kept the bleeding at bay for a period of time; unfortunately, it became dislodged during the escape from the battle, causing him to begin to bleed out on the bridge. The Commander was able to pinch off the artery and bring him here before the situation became dire. Elder Sonal began to hemorrhage shortly after he was brought in, however, so the only thing I was able to finish was healing the vein area itself before I was forced to divert my attention." Geoffrey looked apologetic, but Len knew he had done the right thing. He shook his head and picked up a tricorder.

"You did what you needed to do, Geoffrey, don't worry about it. I'll finish him up." The other doctor gave him a concerned look, before nodding.

"Don't overdo it, Leonard, you just scrubbed out from five hours of brain and spinal surgery." Len managed a wry smirk at the man as he began to scan, and M'Benga took the hint and walked off. Len finished the scan and looked down at the tricorder, scowling at the results.

"Good god, Jim; tearing up your wing was just the goddamned icing on the cake," he whispered, running a finger down the bridge of Jim's nose before lowering his hand to lift the younger man's chin to examine the bruising around his neck. The bruising had already started to come in even before he had left for the Narada, but it had looked nothing like this; Jim's neck was a swollen mess of purple and red, and Len could pick out individual fingertips in the markings, making him swallow back bile. The scan had also revealed a bruise on the C6 vertebrae, as well as a tiny fracture to the hyoid bone, which was even worse. The radius and ulna of the left wing were both seriously fractured, causing the area around them to swell enough that it was obvious even through the feathers; he also had several cracked ribs and was lucky to have any ligaments intact in his wrists. Jim looked like something out of a religious-themed horror story, broken winged, bruised, and bloody; his breath was coming in labored wheezes and he was twitching in obvious pain. The universe had been out to get James T. Kirk, and they had nearly succeeded. Len pulled up a chair and sat down next to the motley collection of beds, stroking absently at the back of Jim's hand while loading up the Starfleet medical records database. He had never been able to look before, as he had never treated Jim beyond a few sessions of dermal regeneration- Len shook his head and scowled at the PADD. He couldn't even lie to himself. Len had sat at the consoles at Starfleet Medical multiple times, his fingers poised to enter in Jim's name; but he had always talked himself out of it. As fiercely as the younger man had always defended his privacy, the guilt and betrayal of going behind his back always overcame his curiosity in the end. That was no longer the case, though, and he would need to know allergies and pertinent information before proceeding with any treatment. The whole mess with the Melvaran Mud Flea vaccine was _not_ going to be repeated. As Jim had mentioned before, it was Doctor Phlox's name stamped on the records, and he was curious as to what the Denobulan had thought of Jim's physical differences, which were far greater than he had anticipated. Len's eyes grew as he scanned down the information, noting lung, vascular, muscle, and bone differences; he had expected the bone differences, which meant he was going to have to be extra careful as he repaired the breaks in the left wing, but the sheer amount of overall variances from human norms surprised him. If the DNA wasn't plain on the page, a person looking at the information would probably assume that he was a hybrid of some sort. The first one born in around two-hundred years, and he had almost died a hundred times today. Len frowned, and skipped ahead to the known allergies. Not on his watch. He already had his dad in here, the last- Len froze, looking up at Jim's bruised features before closing his eyes. Chris and Jim were both patients at the same damn time in his sickbay. It wasn't the first time he had dealt with both a parent and child under his care simultaneously, but this was _Chris and Jim_. He wouldn't be able to face either of them if something happened to the other, not after all the shit that's happened. Finished with the list, he set down the PADD and rose to his feet. Neck first, wing second, everything else could wait. He leaned over and got to work.

"Leonard, you can barely keep your eyes open. Take a rest." Len lifted the dermal regenerator away from Jim's hand and blinked up at Geoffrey, ignoring the wave of exhaustion that crashed into him. The other doctor's dark, expressive face twisted in a tired smirk, and he clasped his hand on Len's shoulder. "I could see your eyes spin there, Leonard. From what I can see, you've patched up just about everything, save some surface scrapes and bruises. I know you are worried about him, but he's going to be fine. You, on the other hand, look like you are about to pass out. Go take a nap; I can handle things here for awhile." M'Benga squeezed slightly to emphasize his point, but he didn't want to move. Geoffrey gave him an understanding smile as he looked pointedly down at Len's left hand, which was loosely holding Jim's right and stroking the palm with a thumb; Len actually felt a bit of warmth creep onto the back of his neck at the scrutiny, and the other man laughed quietly. "Come on, Leonard, you can leave your boyfriend alone for a little while." The blush was _not _working its way around to his ears and cheeks. He got to his feet slowly, giving a last look at the readings on the biobed and a light squeeze to the younger man's hand before disengaging. Geoffrey accompanied him to the office, leaning on the desk as he pulled out the cot and sat down. "How long have you known, Len?" Len's head jerked to look at the other man, who was giving him a considering eye.

"You mean-" He trailed off as the frown grew on his face. "A little over two weeks, Geoff. That's all. Found out by accident." Whatever he expected, M'benga simply smiled and nodded, before his expression became more pensive.

"People are going to think you've known the whole time." Len couldn't restrain the glare, and the other man raised a hand. "I know you, Len, we've worked together for years. I know you care for Kirk, both as a friend and beyond, and you are one of the least shallow people I've ever met. I believe you. But other people will not- Leonard," he trailed off, twisting his lips; Len kept his mouth shut. "There is a sizable amount of the medical staff and students that are convinced that you stay with him because you have a pathological need to fix things, not out of any real sense of friendship. They look at Kirk's appearance, listen to the rumors involving him and Captain Pike, and hear about his exploits before he came to Starfleet, and they assume that he's little more than a waste of space." Len jumped off the cot, approaching Geoffrey with a scowl.

"Do they not remember that he's the top student in the Command track? One of the top students at the school? Hell, he-" M'benga shook his head, and he ground to a halt.

"They don't care, Len. They enjoy their scandals, their rumors; many of them couldn't possibly imagine falling in love with a person who might have a minor birth defect, or anything else slightly odd, and since they could never imagine it, the idea of someone else doing it is beyond their comprehension." Geoffrey gave him a tired smile. "The same idiots who assumed before will continue to do so after we get back; only the material has changed. I just wanted to give you a heads up before you got a rude awakening on the matter." He pushed himself upright, chuckling at the look on Len's face. "You've been attached at the hip to Kirk since you got here, Len. Over the last eight months or so, you've started to look at him in a way that makes _me_ get all warm and fuzzy just by watching. If that isn't love, I don't know what is." Before he could assemble a response, M'benga was at the door. "He's going to need you, Leonard; it's going to be a whole new world we return to, and he's going to be in the center of it." Len could only stare dumbly at the door as it closed behind the other doctor, before shaking his head and settling down on the cot. He wasn't surprised by M'benga's statements, but at the same time...he was. Maybe he gave other people too much credit, he didn't know; but he did agree with the man's last point one-hundred percent. As for the second to last point, well- he'd think about it later. Grabbing the pillow, he punched it into shape and laid down. He was asleep between one breath and the next.

"Doctor McCoy." Len snorted awake, bleary eyes darting around until they fixed on the nurse standing near his cot. "Sorry about waking you, sir, but Captain Pike has regained consciousness. He wants to speak with you." He was on his feet and out of his office in seconds, nodding to the nurse before parting the curtains and entering his half-room. Chris's eyes were barely open, but they were open; the dark blue irises visible as he fixed his gaze on Len.

"Leonard." The older man's voice was weak, but he could still hear the authority in his tone.

"Welcome back, sir." Chris managed a half smirk, before looking past Len to the curtains.

"Could you open those?" That was the question that was spoken, but he knew it wasn't the actual one he truly meant. Len twisted and slid open one of the curtains, revealing Jim a few beds away.

"He's doing fine, sir. I patched him up myself. I'll probably discharge him as soon as he wakes up." Chris's smirk morphed into a relieved smile for a moment, before his eyes hardened.

"Report, Doctor. What's the state of the enemy ship, anything you know about the state of _this_ ship, and the status of whoever is currently in command, which I assume to be Commander Spock." Len sighed, glancing up at the readings before looking back at Chris.

"I'll answer those, sir, but that will be it for now. You need to rest." Chris frowned, but he didn't argue. Len took a deep breath and parsed his thoughts. "The Narada is gone, blown apart by the same weapon they used to destroy Vulcan. The ship got thrashed around in the aftermath, but I don't know most of the details, as I was busy with getting ready to operate. I think I heard that communications were out, and we've lost warp drive. As for who is in command-" He trailed off for a second as he thought about it, before continuing on. "That would be Commander Spock at the moment." It took him a second to realize the issue in his wording, as Chris's eyebrows shot up and his expression grew stormy.

"-_at the moment_?" Len closed his eyes with a grimace. "_Leonard_." He sighed and looked at the older man, who was frowning at him with considerable fervor. "_Now_, Leonard." This wasn't going to end well.

"-I'll be discharging him as soon as he wakes up." Chris's eyes flew open, and a sensor on the biobed wailed as he tried to sit up; Len killed the alarm before anyone came to check on the situation and took the older man firmly by the shoulders, keeping him down. "You are in no shape to be moving, Captain!" A hand wrapped around the front of his shirt, the grip shockingly firm as it yanked him close to Chris's face.

"_Why...is my son...the acting captain_?" Scratch any earlier thoughts, Chris was furious. Len grabbed the older man's hand, uncurling the fingers from his uniform and taking a step away from the bed. Chris's heart rate was skyrocketing, and he grabbed a hypospray, dialing it to a sedative before turning back to the Captain. "Answer me, Doctor." The injured man's expression had gone tight, and Len looked at him for a long moment before sighing.

"You gave conflicting orders, sir. The commander was going to head to the Laurentian System after Vulcan...was destroyed, as you had originally indicated; Jim insisted on pursuing the Narada, both before it destroyed Earth and to rescue you, which you also ordered. To summarize a whole hell of a lot, after an altercation between Spock and Jim, Spock stepped down and Jim took command." Chris's heart rate had settled down, but worry had replaced the anger on his face, his eyes darting towards Jim's unconscious form before returning to him.

"Commander Olson?" Len shook his head, and Chris heaved a broken sigh, running a hand over his face. "He's just a cadet; a brilliant one to be sure, but as the acting captain? I assume Doctor Puri is also deceased, by the fact you appear to be in charge around here." Len sighed again, but met the older man's gaze firmly.

"Captain, you would have never named Jim First Officer if you didn't believe he could do the job, and we _both _know it." This wasn't like the man, to second-guess either Jim or his own decisions, and the exhaustion that was flickering across his face told the reason why. Chris looked over at Jim one last time, before turning his head upright and closing his eyes.

"Trust you to beat reason back into an addled old man's head, Leonard." The ghost of a smile on the older man's face reassured him, but he still needed to sedate him. Just as he was about to inject him, Chris's eyes cracked open. "How bad is it?" Len betrayed nothing in his face.

"I've done what I can here, you will need additional surgery when we get back to Earth. Nothing is certain, but I have a positive outlook." Chris snorted as he depressed the hypospray against the man's neck.

"In short, who the hell knows?" The last few words were slurred as the drug took effect, and Len quirked a tiny smile as the Captain fell asleep.

"Story of our lives." After checking Chris's vitals one last time, he left his side and walked over to Jim, who was beginning to show signs of life; the snuffling and groaning coming from the younger man as he twitched awake made Len chuckle. After a short period of time watching the spectacle, Jim's eyes fluttered open, giving him a great view of slightly crossed brilliant blue eyes as they tried to focus on their surroundings.

"B-Bones? Wha'm' I doin' here?" Jim immediately began to sit up, but his arms were still catching up with his brain; Len quickly grabbed his shoulders as he began to pitch backwards, causing the younger man to fix his gaze on him. "I was on the bridge. What happened?" Once he was satisfied that Jim wasn't going to topple over, he released his shoulders and stood next to the collection of beds.

"You sustained an injury to your left wing; a piece of shrapnel that tore into a large part of the length of your cutaneous ulnar vein, lodging there and probably causing a good amount of pain, which I'm sure you were ignoring during your epic adrenaline rush, you blasted idiot. It freed itself in the turbulence of the aftermath, and you began to bleed out on the bridge. From what I gathered, you passed out, Spock managed to stem the blood flow and deliver you here, and Geoffrey fixed you enough so you wouldn't exsanguinate on us. After I finished the surgery on the captain, I came out and finished the job, save for some cuts and scrapes. Then I took a nap, spoke with your- the captain for a few minutes until I needed to put him under again, then saw you were waking up." Len quirked an eyebrow at Jim, who was glancing towards the still-parted curtains over at Chris's area. "I'm going to run a few quick scans, but I should be able to let you get back to work in a few minutes." Jim nodded absently, still looking over at his dad; he sighed and took Jim's hand. "Get up, I'll update you on him while I make sure you are fit to leave." Jim wasn't able to hide the flash of pain as he shifted his left wing, which was still somewhat swollen, and rose to his feet; Len gently felt at the site of the now-healed injury before looking back at the younger man. "You also managed to fracture both the radius and the ulna, so the wing is going to be sensitive for at least several days. Don't move it too much." Jim frowned at him, tucking his wings slowly towards his back.

"How long have I been out?" Good question. A short glance at the biobed monitor provided the answer as they approached Chris's bedside.

"About eight hours, I think. I was in surgery, as I said, so I don't know the exact time you were brought in." Jim stiffened and frowned at the news as he closed the curtains behind them.

"Fuck. I wonder if Spock decided to retake command while I was out," Jim mumbled, but it was clearly more for himself than for Len. Taking Chris's hand in his own, the younger man looked back at him. "How is he?" Len's lips pursed of their own accord, and he watched as Jim tightened his grip on his dad's hand.

"Provided no unforeseen complications come up, he's going to make it, although I suspect there will be side-effects. I was unable to do all the procedures I wanted here, as the equipment is damaged, so he'll need further treatment once we make it home." Jim nodded.

"What's the worse case scenario?" Len grimaced, before forcing his face into a more neutral expression.

"Jim, those bastards force-fed him a Centarian slug. I pulled it out of the base of his brain stem during the surgery, where it had been happily chewing and secreting toxins that I'm still analyzing for some time. He's not going to be one-hundred percent for some time...if at all." The younger man had gone pale, licking nervously at his lips as he brought his other hand up to cup Chris's hand; Len placed a hand on Jim's shoulder and squeezed. "His cognitive functions seem normal, he was able to move his head, torso, and arms in the short time he was awake. Any further tests will have to wait until he has rested some more. The first thing he did when he woke up was start interrogating me, kid, so I'm keeping positive." Jim gave a weak chuckle, tightening his grip before releasing Chris's hand and stepping back.

"Sounds like him." Jim reached out and took Len's hand, gripping loosely at his fingers. "Thank you, Bones. For everything. Fuck, if you hadn't gotten me on this ship, he'd probably be dead." Len lifted his captured hand and brought it to his lips, laying a light kiss on Jim's grasping digits.

"Jim, you've saved a lot more than the Captain in the last twenty-four hours, and you best remember that." The other man's face remained calm, but his wings twitched in response, drawing Len's eye. Jim tensed automatically, but let himself sag in the next breath.

"Shit. It's going to take me awhile to get used to this." Jim drew his hand back, but not before letting his fingers run over Len's lips first. "I feel like you are courting me or something sometimes when you do things like that." Len raised an eyebrow, and the younger man laughed. "Yeah yeah, I'm full of it. _Not_." Jim turned and headed to the door, turning back towards him as it hissed open. "Get some sleep, Bones, you look like shit." His already-raised eyebrow angled sharply as he scowled, and Jim gave a naughty grin. "Catch you later!" Len spun on his heel and stalked back into the office. He definitely wasn't paid enough to put up with this shit.

* * *

It took Len three days after he discharged Jim to realize that the younger man had no quarters, which irritated him to no end. He was usually more observant than that. He entertained the hope for a short while that Jim had just decided to use his dad's, but after he realized between his endless rounds that Jim seemed to be in sickbay far more than necessary, he knew something had to be done, especially after Jim actually spooked one of the nurses when she came in to him perched on the end of a vacant biobed, his wings slightly lifted for balance and his toes wrapped around the edge of the frame...asleep. Len isn't even sure he could pinpoint the specific reason Jim could do that without his feet seizing up, but it wasn't important. What was important was that the nurse had walked straight into his office and all but demanded that he figure something out, disturbing his work in the process. Jim had been gone when he had walked out to speak with him, and he had sighed and told the nurse he would speak with him at the next opportunity. It wasn't until almost eight hours later that he had enough downtime to try and corner the stubborn idiot. Len walked out of the office, prepared to go to the bridge to find him. He didn't have to go far. He was stopped by the sound of a voice, thin and raspy from weakness coming from one of the semi-private rooms in the back of sickbay, a voice that Len knew all too well.

"He's in here, Leonard." Len closed his eyes against the wavering tones of Chris's voice, his chest inexplicably heavy. Of course he was in there; Jim had been coming to check on the Captain frequently since he had been released. He turned and entered the partially walled, partially curtained area, coming to a sudden stop at the scene in front of him. "Close the curtains, Leonard." Len did as he was told without turning, keeping his eyes on Jim. He had seen this same view hundreds, if not thousands of times; concerned family waiting at their loved one's bedsides for _something_ to change, but this was more visceral than that. The Judeo-Christian belief system wasn't nearly as entrenched as it once was, but Len knew that the sight of a winged being sitting at a sick man's bedside, his head cradled in his arms in slumber was a vision that would stop most humans. Chris's right hand was resting on his son's head, fingers lightly stroking at his scalp as the younger man made choked-off whimpers and sighs; noises that went straight to Len's heart, sounds that made him want to take Jim into his arms. God, he looked so _young_. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. This wasn't the time. He sighed and met Chris's exhausted eyes, eyes that had barely been able to focus until just a day or so ago, but were now casting a concerned gaze down on his son. Trust Jim to worry a man who had been on death's door only four days ago.

"He doesn't have any quarters." Len suddenly couldn't look at Chris, and turned his eyes to Jim's twitching wings. "I should have realized this days ago." Chris's sigh was almost inaudible.

"You've been a bit busy, Leonard. Jim's a big boy now, he can take care of himself." Len glanced up at Chris's tired expression before returning his gaze to Jim, who had gone quiet, but showed no other signs of waking up.

"Except when he can't," Len murmured, and Chris gave him a sharp, considering look before closing his eyes as he exhaled.

"Except when he can't." Chris's voice was barely above a whisper, and he knew he needed to get Jim squared away before the older man fell asleep. Len moved to Jim's side, placing a hand on the slumbering man's shoulder.

"Jim, wake up." Jim groaned and shifted, but did not lift his head; Len snorted and shook him lightly. "Jim-" A second shake did the trick, and his hand was thrown from the younger man's shoulder as he bolted upright, looking wildly around for a moment before sagging in his seat. Chris had reopened his eyes at the spectacle, a ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth before he closed them again.

"Jim, go with Leonard." The command was clear even through the hushed tones, and Jim frowned at his dad.

"Dad-" Chris cut him off cleanly.

"Son, you aren't a child anymore. This isn't eleven years ago on the Yorktown; you are a member of Starfleet, and you have responsibilities to this ship as its acting captain. You can't snatch an hour of sleep here and there at my bedside and hope to keep functioning with any reasonable success." Len could see when Jim grit his teeth together, and expected an argument from the younger man. He ended up being pleasantly surprised. Jim got to his feet, his spine popping as he straightened next to the bed.

"Yes, sir." Jim's jaw was set, but he was doing a horrible job at trying to keep the worry off of his face. Chris's lips began to twitch again as he took in the sight through shuttered eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jim. You took care of that." Jim glanced at Len before turning back to the older man with a sigh. "You both did." Len caught the captain's eyes as he tilted his head towards the curtains. "Scoot, you two. Short of an emergency, I don't want to see either of you for at least ten hours." Len raised an eyebrow at the statement as Jim sputtered; he chose to defuse the situation by weaving his arm through Jim's and pulling him towards the curtains.

"Get a good night's sleep, sir." Chris gave a minute nod as he closed his eyes again, and Len focused on getting Jim out of Sickbay before he changed his mind about cooperating. The younger man allowed himself to be dragged along for a few seconds after they cleared the curtains, before shrugging out of his grip.

"I don't have quarters, Bones." Len rolled his eyes and started for the door; after a moment of hesitation, Jim began to follow.

"You may not, but I do, Jim. It's not like we haven't slept in the same vicinity before." It had been some three weeks since they had last done so. Len sighed inwardly. The last week felt like a lifetime on its own. As they entered the turbolift, he looked over at Jim, who was standing at parade rest, his wings tight against his back; an ensign looked between the two of them with an expression that Len couldn't really translate as they reached their floor. The younger man stepped out first, but came to a stop outside the doors as he joined him. "It's just down the hall." Eyes followed them as they approached his room, but Jim seemed to be able to brush them off as the door opened to admit them. As it hissed closed behind them, Len watched Jim deflate. He sniffed in the younger man's direction, earning him a tired scowl. "When was the last time you showered? When you were still in Sickbay?"

"I haven't had time, I've been busy." Jim's face was drawn and pale, and he rolled his eyes as he gently steered the young man towards the bathroom. Jim pouted at him, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. Len ducked under Jim's wings and examined the shirt's construction as he tried to figure out how to get it off. Jim chuckled as he reached behind and ran his fingers down the overlaps in the seams directly under the wing joins, causing the back of the shirt to separate into three pieces. "I may be a bit tired, old man, but I can still undress myself." The shirt was pulled off and thrown on the counter as Jim toggled the settings on the shower. Len snorted and walked to the door.

"Let me know if you need anything." He didn't wait for an answer, striding into the bedroom and beginning to shuck his own clothing, pulling on a pair of pajama pants. He could wait on a shower until the morning. He had just settled down onto the edge of the bed when the water shut off.

"Do you have a pair of boxers or something I could borrow?" Len rolled at his eyes at the muffled voice came through the bathroom, and he slapped his hands on his knees as he rose back to his feet.

"Hold on." A few seconds of digging produced both underwear and pajama pants, both too big, but that was all he had. He walked up to the door with a tiny smirk. "Need help putting them on?" The silence that followed was golden, and Len barked out a laugh. "Come get them, you baby." The door hissed open to reveal a towel-clad Jim, glowering at him as he stretched out and grabbed the clothes out of his hands before the door rushed closed again. Len chuckled as he walked back to the bed, letting himself flop on top of the covers. Jim's ears had been a lovely shade of burgundy.

"You are an asshole, you know that, right?" The younger man walked out of the bathroom, the environmental systems clearing the cloud of steam in his wake in moments as Len gave Jim a once-over. He had been so stunned at Lundy that he hadn't done more than a cursory look at anything but the wings, and Jim hadn't stayed still long enough when he had borrowed his shower the afternoon before they left, but now- Jim was shooting him a sour look as he wandered over to the other side of the bed. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." Len focused on his torso as Jim turned around and sat on the edge of the bed opposite him. He had noted the scar on his right shoulder before, but hadn't realized how serious it was; it was clearly from a burn of some sort, but the only way the scarring would have been that severe is if it had been left untreated for a significant period of time. Besides the shoulder, he was generally unblemished, but he was so damn _thin_.

"Jim, when I would ask you your weight, the number you gave me included your wings, didn't it?" Jim twisted towards him as he lifted his legs onto the bed, and shrugged.

"Yeah?" Jim scooted as he pulled the covers down enough to get under, lying down on his side and pulling them up to under his ribcage. "Are you going to just stare at me all night, or are you going to bed?" Len rolled his eyes as he commanded the lights off and slipped under the covers as well, facing the younger man.

"You know, this was a lot easier than it was a few weeks ago," he said wryly, and Jim glared at him before pushing his head into the pillow with a sigh.

"You know why." That he did. Len hmphed and slid closer to the acting captain, resting a hand on Jim's waist as he leaned in and gave him a kiss on his forehead. Jim tensed momentarily at the physical contact, but relaxed after the kiss, actually shifting a bit closer.

"Good night, Jim." Jim gave a slight smile as Len's eyes drifted closed.

"Night, Bones."

* * *

Sickbay was finally starting to thin a bit, excepting the patients who would be remaining with them for the duration of the trip back to Earth. Communications was still fucked, although he had heard they were trying to rig something up with the shuttlecraft, and Chris was staying conscious long enough to start getting difficult. What in the hell was it about commanders and being horrible patients? After the older man had tried for the fifth time to get out of bed, only to nearly fall on his ass, Len had argued with Chris enough. When he succeeded in his mission of falling on the sixth attempt, Len had been forced to strap the man's legs down. That hadn't gone over well.

"McCoy to Bridge. Please tell me Captain Kirk is there." A moment's pause, then a familiar voice answered, making Len sigh with relief.

"Kirk here. What do you need, Bones?" Jim sounded tired, but curious; Len glanced towards Chris's area before speaking.

"I need to speak with you regarding one of the patients, Captain. Preferably sooner rather than later." He infused enough concern into his voice that he was certain that Jim would get the hint. He better get the hint.

"On my way." He had gotten the hint. Len walked back to the older man's bedside, looking down at his supine form, relaxed in sedation. He cringed as he did a cursory examination. He really hadn't wanted to do that; he did not look forward to when Chris woke up. He could hear the doors open behind him, and popped his head out of the curtains long enough to flag down Jim, who immediately entered, closing the curtain behind him with a short swipe of his right wing. "What's up? Why is he out? I thought he had been staying awake most of the time." He waited for Jim to notice the leg restraints before speaking. "Bones, what is-"

"He wouldn't stop trying to get out of bed. His brain isn't processing signals from his legs correctly, he's in no condition to be doing anything more than sitting up, let alone trying to stand." He couldn't keep the resignation out of his voice, and he could see when the light dawned.

"You sedated him." Jim's voice was flat, and Len ran a hand through his hair.

"His heart rate skyrocketed as he...informed me of his displeasure at the proceedings. I had no choice, he wouldn't calm down." He felt like he was making excuses, and hell, he was; but they were excuses backed up with plausible reasoning. He could see that Jim understood this, as the younger man pulled a face and ran his hands over his eyes.

"I never thought I would be in this position when I was younger." Jim's voice was soft as he gestured to Chris, who was beginning to shift slightly. "I mean, I never saw my mother; I figured I would just get a transmission one day telling me when she died. I never thought I'd have to...be at a parent's bedside. He was in Sickbay more than once during our time on the Yorktown, but-" Len frowned as he listened to Jim. It was something he had far too much experience with, and he had dropped enough hints over the last few years that he was pretty sure that Jim at least had an idea of that. Jim was looking between the two of them as Chris's face scrunched up in the telltale sign of imminent revival.

"Jim-"

"It looks like he's waking up." Jim clasped him on the shoulder, his expression subdued, but Len could see the resilience in his eyes. They had all changed in some way in the last few weeks, and Jim possibly most of all. The jury was out for him on whether he liked all of the new things he could see in the younger man's eyes, but at least they were still alive. That would have to be enough for now.

"Call me if you need me." The grateful smile that Jim shot him made his breath catch, and Len slipped out to leave the two in peace. He returned to his rounds, resisting the urge to listen in on their conversation; he almost approached when he became able to clearly hear their voices over the eternal beeps and trills of the machines, but they swiftly quieted down and he retreated to his office to catch up on paperwork as soon as he was done, after instructing the nurses to stay out of the captain's room.

"Bridge to Sickbay." Len sighed and hit the comm button as he set down his PADD. Just who he wanted to talk to.

"McCoy here." Spock's voice was as bland as usual in reply, and he frowned.

"Doctor, might I inquire if you know the whereabouts of Captain Kirk?" He frowned at the comm for a moment before responding.

"He's speaking with Captain Pike at the moment, you want me to send him your way?"

"That would be ideal." He couldn't resist an eyeroll at the Vulcan's stiff language.

"Give me a few minutes." He cut the connection and rose to his feet, catching his academy ring on the table and tweaking his finger as he stalked from the room. "Goddamnit, that hurt." He was still rubbing at the sore pinkie as he approached Chris's room, but the sound of agitated voices caused his attention to shift.

"Dad, _please_ don't do this. Don't shut-" Chris's voice was rough, and colder than that damn planet Jim had taken a short trip to not two weeks prior.

"You have a ship to be running, _Captain_. Go do your damn job and leave me alone." Len could hear Jim's sharp intake of breath at his dad's words, and before he could intervene, he heard the scrape of the chair.

"I'll be back later." The younger man's voice was shaky, and Len bit back a sad sigh. "Try- try to get some rest, okay?" He stepped back far enough that Chris wouldn't be able to see him, but it didn't fool Jim, who leveled an exasperated glare as he pulled the curtains shut behind him. After they had walked a sufficient distance away, Jim spun on him with a worried expression. "How much did you hear?" Len shook his head and indicated the office with a quick twitch of his hand; Jim marched in ahead of him and propped himself onto the corner of his desk.

"I just heard the last two sentences or so. I was actually coming to get you, Spock wants you on the bridge." Len sat on the desk next to Jim, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Jim, your dad is working though a lot of issues right now. He's not going to be in the best of places for awhile." Jim looked so damn lost that his wings were actually drooping onto the desk as he slumped.

"He wouldn't listen to a damn thing I said, he just wanted me to go away." He never wanted to hear that sad little voice ever again out of the kid. Trust Jim to be a paragon of strength during the end of the world, but when it came to more personal matters- Len tightened his grip on the younger man's shoulders, pulling him until he was flush with his side.

"Jim- Jim. I think the events of earlier may have brought home just how serious his injuries are. Give him some time." Jim looked like he was going to pull away, but he chose otherwise, letting his head fall to Len's shoulder. "I'm doing everything I can, Jim. But until we get home, there's only so much I can do." The sandy-haired man's head scrubbed against the fabric of his uniform in the semblance of a nod.

"I know. It's just- I'm not used to seeing him like that. He-" Jim sighed, and Len bumped his cheek against the messy hair.

"No one ever is." Jim pulled away, and gave him a resigned half-smile.

"Spock wanted to see me?" He nodded, and Jim rose to his feet. "Thank you, Bones; I don't know what...I would have done if he hadn't made it. I know it sounds childish, but-" Len placed a finger on the younger man's lips, silencing him.

"Jim, no one in their right mind wants to see their parents in pain- or worse. If you had been indifferent to the situation, we probably wouldn't have been friends in the first place." Jim's eyes were getting glassy, and Len flicked at his cheek. "None of that, Jim. Wait until you're off duty." Jim snorted a laugh, bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

"Fuck, this whole mess is making me maudlin." After several rapid blinks, Jim got himself under control, and Len gave him a slight smile. "Time to go, Spock is probably about to march in here." They exited his office together, revealing Spock standing near the door to Sickbay. "As I said." Jim smirked, and turned to Spock. "Sorry about that, Spock, had something to discuss with Bones." Jim headed straight for the exit, but when Spock turned to follow, Len spoke up.

"Commander, can I speak with you for a moment?" That earned him an eyebrow from Spock, but the Vulcan approached without further comment; Jim froze in the doorway, and Len shooed him out. "He'll be right behind you, Jim; I just need to ask him something." Jim responded with a suspicious glance, before shrugging and leaving. He turned to Spock, who was waiting silently with his hands clasped behind his back. "How much did you hear?" Spock blinked, but showed no other indication of surprise.

"I am unclear as to what you are referring-" He cut Spock off with a sharp cut of his hand.

"Don't start. Jim may be happily assuming that you had just entered, but I know better." The Vulcan's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and he had his confirmation. "Let's continue this in my office." As soon as the door closed behind them, Len rounded on Spock. "Well?" Spock looked at him for a moment before replying.

"I entered Sickbay fifty-four seconds before the end of your conversation. The subject matter was...unclear from my prospective." Len rolled his eyes.

"What part?" His tone was bone-dry, and Spock looked vaguely constipated as he responded.

"There is only one patient currently in Sickbay that could possibly fit the subject matter, however-" He snorted, and sat down on the corner of his desk, crossing his arms.

"Spock, what do you know about Captain Pike's family?" Spock's answer was immediate.

"The Captain has a mother that lives in the city of Mojave, where he also retains a residence." Len nodded.

"It's actually about thirty minutes outside the city, but close enough." The eyebrow was questioning this time, but he didn't take the bait.

"He also has a son that lived with him aboard the Yorktown for approximately seven years, ten months." It was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

"What was the son's name?" Spock actually appeared to have to think about it, several beats passing before he spoke again.

"James Pike, I believe." As tempting as it was, Len kept his mouth shut, raising both eyebrows as he stared expectantly at the Vulcan. It didn't take long. Spock's eyes widened slightly, and he glanced absently towards the door before facing him again.

"-fascinating." Spock raised an eyebrow. "That does provide an explanation for the Captain's frequent visits, as well as providing some insight to his actions since he made his presence known aboard the Enterprise, however-" He paused, shooting Len a look that was the closest he had ever seen to confusion on the man's face. "-they are not biologically related." It was not a question, and Len nodded.

"Correct again." Another pause, and both of the Vulcan's eyebrows twitched upward before he met Len's eyes.

"Captain Pike took Mr. Kirk in after the emergence of his x-gene." His head tilted slightly, as Len nodded again. "Mr. Kirk's file stated that he was not to be placed onboard the Enterprise unless absolutely necessary, which I had found unusual, but I had no reason to question it. I believe he was listed under the Farragut prior to the hearing." He paused one last time. "The Admiralty was aware of their relationship." Len snorted.

"Considering Jim lived on the Yorktown for almost eight years, I think it would have been hard to hide."

"Indeed. If it were not Captain Pike, it would...call into question his motivations for promoting Mr. Kirk." Len cringed inwardly, closing his eyes for a moment; damn politics, he hadn't thought about that. He scowled, and pointed a finger at the Vulcan.

"Don't even go down that road, you-" Spock held up a hand, and he trailed off.

"Captain Pike's decision was based on obvious merit, disregarding the events shortly before our launch. Mr. Kirk is the head of his class in the command track, as well as one of the top final year students overall at the Academy, and has completed more command training than any other cadet aboard this ship. Disregarding Commander Olson, who had a reputation of impetuous action that would have been undesirable in the situation we were in, as it became apparent in the manner of his unfortunate demise, and Doctor Puri, who had only completed the minimum requirement of command training, Mr. Kirk was the logical choice." Len felt the thread of tension that had worked into his shoulders disburse, and he looked at the Vulcan with a wry eye.

"That was almost nice, Commander. Might want to be careful." Spock's eyebrow inched up further as he turned towards the door.

"It is clear that you are acquainted with Captain Pike in addition to Mr. Kirk, so I will state that the reactions of some of those among the Admiralty will not be as favorable, nor understanding. Captain Pike is most certainly aware of this." Len looked towards the direction of Chris's bed as they exited the office, before running a hand through his hair.

"The man has a lot on his plate, I don't plan on bringing up more things that will only distress him," he said softly, Spock giving a tiny nod of his head in acknowledgement.

"I must return to the bridge, Doctor." Spock did not wait for a response, and the hiss of the doors behind him allowed Len to sag against an empty biobed.

"Christ, kid, you seriously owe me."

* * *

Jim had been much calmer overall since the return from the Narada than he had expected, considering just how panicked he got when he found out about the whole x-gene bit; Len wondered if that breakdown got it out of his system. But as he spied a fifth crewman twirling a goddamned feather between their fingers just as he headed to the bridge, he knew that Jim wasn't telling him everything. The turbolift doors opened, and he walked out to Jim fluttering against the ceiling with what looked like a blowtorch in his hand, working on patching the surface cracks. The words tumbled out before he could stop himself.

"Jim, what in hell are you doing? You're going to set your goddamned wings on fire!" Jim didn't drop the blowtorch, but it was a close call as he flapped his wings into the ceiling in shock, the recoil sending him towards the deck before he righted himself enough to land on his feet. Len didn't bother hiding the cringe.

"What the fuck, Bones? Are you trying to kill me?" Jim's glare could strip paint, and he managed an apologetic grimace before scowling.

"Jim, the bridge is only four meters or so high, why don't you use a stepladder so we don't have to put you out after a spark lights up all those pretty feathers of yours?" The younger man scowled right back at him as he passed the blowtorch off to an ensign, who glanced nervously between them before withdrawing.

"It's relaxing, alright? I was doing just fine until you caused me to crash into the fucking ceiling." Len's brow furrowed, and he met Jim's irritated gaze.

"Relaxing?" Several of the bridge crew had all but stopped what they were doing, and he and Jim both turned and frowned at them until they returned to their duties. Jim told a Lieutenant Masters to take the conn as he turned and walked towards the ready room. Len glared at the eavesdropping officers one last time before following him.

"Bones, you can't just start questioning me on the bridge. I know it's a bit hard to swallow, hell, I'm still wondering what the hell happened sometimes; but I am acting captain at the moment and there are protocols that need to be observed. The last thing I need is to have the crew think that I'm crazy." He raised an eyebrow at Jim, who frowned.

"I don't think there's any danger of people not thinking that, Captain." Jim gave him an insulted glower as he wrapped his hands loosely around the younger man's biceps. "Many of them knew you at the Academy, Jim, it's not like you have a ship full of strangers under your command." Len paused, taking in the sour expression on Jim's face. "I am sorry about that whole mess out there, my mouth got away from me." Jim scanned his face before sighing and pulling away, falling into the first chair he came to.

"I have to fly occasionally, Bones. I start having some serious issues if I don't." Jim was looking at the far wall, and Len frowned and sat in the chair next to Jim.

"I need you to explain these _serious_ issues, Jim; I can't be going in blind if something goes wrong." The younger man took a deep breath as he looked down at his hands.

"The general rule I've worked out is if I don't go for a serious flight every two months or so, barring severe stress, I start getting agitated. I can generally control it until I hit about five months, which is around the time my concentration goes to shit and I start looking for alternative outlets. You were present our first year when I fell off the bandwagon." Jim still wasn't looking at him, and he racked his brain to figure out what he was talking about.

"First year- all I can remember is that out of the blue fistfight in early December." Jim didn't look up, and he knew he had guessed correctly. "So let me get this straight, you have problems focusing and you start getting aggressive if you haven't flown for a significant period of time, and it happens faster if you are under serious strain." Len leaned over, placing his hand against Jim's cheek and turning his head. "Do I have it right?" Lightening storm-blue eyes met his with a nervous expression, and he sighed. "Jim, I'm not going to think any less of you or anything; you simply have a different body chemistry than what I'm used to. I just want to help, kid." Jim pressed his cheek into his palm, closing his eyes.

"I know, it's just- fuck, Bones, four weeks ago and the only people who knew what was up with me were Dad, John, and my mother. Now the whole universe is going to know soon." He lifted his head and looked at Len, who frowned at the fear Jim was badly disguising in his eyes. "I am a little fucked in the head, Bones; the fact that Dad has put up with me so long confuses the shit out of me sometimes." Len bit back a smile, and fluffed Jim's hair. He could answer that one.

"Jim, Chris puts up with you because he loves you. You may not be related biologically, but you are every bit his kid." That actually brought a ghost of a smile to the younger man's face, and Len leaned back and crossed his arms. "You aren't anymore screwed up than anyone else on this death-trap, me included." The faint smile turned impish, and he rolled his eyes.

"You said it, not me."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up brat." Len snorted at Jim, before dropping his eyes to his wings. "Hey, Jim-" He reached out and took the edge of the younger man's left wing in his hand, letting the feathers tickle his fingers; Jim actually shuddered for a moment before glaring at him. "-explain to me why I'm seeing people walk around with feathers? I know they are coming from you." Jim's face screwed up in irritation, and he released the wing and raised an eyebrow. "_Oh ho_, I'm guessing by that reaction that you aren't exactly party to this." The other man tightened his wings to his body and heaved an exasperated sigh.

"I'll be just walking along, and suddenly ow what the fuck was that? I'm getting drive-by mauled, Bones, it's like every cultural sensitivity class and seminar we all had to take is being thrown out the window just because I've got a fucking set of wings. I think it's been the just the human crewmembers, but I'm not certain. Chekov swore that he saw one of the Vulcan passengers with one, but I'll believe it when I see it." Jim paused, giving a resigned glance to the side. "I don't have an extra harness, or I would have just put it back on." Anger, swift and sharp, came utterly out of nowhere, surging through Len as he jumped to his feet with a snarl. "Bones, what the hell-"

"You shouldn't have had to put that damn thing on in the first place, and you sure as hell aren't going to put it back on now!" He stormed to the wall comm, fully planning to announce to the whole damn ship to stop assaulting the captain or _fucking else_; before Jim was _right there_, blocking the comm with a wing as he shoved him into the wall.

"Bones, what the hell are you doing?" Without even thinking, he wrapped his hands around the younger man's waist and lifted him, the surprise keeping Jim from struggling as he plopped him down to the side and reached again for the comm.

"I'm going to tell the goddamn ship to leave you alone, that's what I'm going to do." Jim snapped out of it and lunged for his hand just as he was about to hit the button, tightening strong fingers around his wrist.

"Bones, stop. Just stop. I'll deal with it." Len started to pull away, but the look on Jim's face stopped him. Letting his hand drop to his side, he looked the younger man straight in the eye.

"Kid- Jim. You shouldn't have to deal with any of this crap. What if they start pulling out your primaries?" Jim's mouth twisted, and he looked down at his right wing.

"Too late." He flared the wing out enough to show the gap, not obvious at a distance, but completely clear up close; Len leaned over and inspected the follicle, which looked irritated. "You've been looking up bird terminology, Bones? I'm honored." Len rolled his eyes as he carefully examined the area.

"This could get infected, Jim; your follicles are a lot bigger than any Earth bird." He straightened, leaning against the wall where Jim had pushed him; Jim shrugged and lowered the wing. "Do you have any idea why?" The younger man shrugged again, letting himself list forward until he was leaning against Len.

"The ensign who pulled out that one told me some of the crew were considering them good-luck charms." Len threaded his arms around Jim's waist as he spoke, shooting him a dubious look after he closed his mouth.

"You are joking, right?" It was Jim who rolled his eyes this time.

"Don't I wish." Len gave him a sympathetic squeeze, frowning as his arms overlapped sooner than he thought they would.

"Jim, when was the last time you ate?" Jim immediately went shifty-eyed, and he glared. "Jim, have you eaten today?" Was Jim puffing out his stomach? He tightened his arms, hearing a near-inaudible oof in response. "Jim." The younger man started to pull away, but Len had bulk on his side. He couldn't help but think that this could be useful in the future.

"I'm not hungry right now, I'll grab something after shift." Jim squirmed again, managing to get out of his grip and stepping away. "-which I really should be getting back to, Bones. I'll handle the plucking issue in the shipwide briefing tomorrow." Len frowned and followed Jim to the door.

"Don't start skipping meals, Jim; you are thin enough as it is." He paused as the door opened. "-and no more upside-down welding or whatever the hell you were doing!" Jim's posture straightened instantly as he walked onto the bridge, but not before he twisted around and responded to Len.

"Yes, _Mom_."

* * *

The not-so-subtly phrased _please remember standard professional and cultural sensitivity guidelines and refrain from coming in physical contact with others unless otherwise permitted_ seemed to have gotten the point across, as Len hadn't heard Jim mention any more instances of plucking, and those who already had feathers had prudently put them away. It also went over better than whatever he would have yelled over the comm, so he grudgingly admitted that the kid had had a point in stopping him. Not that he'd ever admit to it. He hadn't managed to convince him to eat any meals with him, however, and every mention he made of it was stealthily avoided. On top of that, Chris had become withdrawn and irritable; alternating between barely speaking to the medical staff to arguing over everything. It was common for patients of any serious injury with a lasting impact to experience some sort of depression or mental change, but a small part of Len had hoped that Chris would avoid the brunt of those pitfalls. It had been a nice hope while it lasted. Chris's continuing black mood was beginning to effect Jim, although Jim would forever deny it. He wasn't blind to the stark dips in the younger man's demeanor after his visits, the shadow that would fall over those impossibly bright eyes, although it seemed that everyone else was. He had already had to break up a pair of gossiping Gabbys among the cadet nurses who were bringing up that damn rumor again. At least Geoff had some brains in his head; he and Chapel may not know the exact relationship between Jim and Chris, but they knew that the only person Jim was romantically inclined towards was him. Len snorted inwardly. It would never cease to amaze him what people were able to not see right in front of them. Stepping away from Nurse Goddard's bedside, who had sustained severe burns in the Deck Five hit that had killed Doctor Puri and several other Sickbay personnel, Len rubbed at his eyes and headed over to Chris's area, listening at the curtain for a moment before parting it and stepping in. The older man was sitting up and reading a PADD with what looked like shipwide reports, his face set in a flat expression, and he did not look up when Len entered the room. This was becoming standard procedure. He checked his vitals and condition, then lowered himself into the chair next to Chris's bed. The silence was like lukewarm bathwater, unpleasant but easy to ignore, and Len took the opportunity to relax for a few minutes before he had to wrangle Jim into getting some sleep. He was awoken from his drifting by the clearing of a throat, and he looked up to see the older man frowning at him.

"What do you want, Leonard?" Len raised an eyebrow and got to his feet, pursing his lips.

"Well, that's a loaded question, sir. I'd like a lot of things; for us to be on Earth, to be able to see my daughter freely, for a certain bird-brain to stop lying to me about whether he has eaten or not, and for a certain Starfleet captain I respect very much to just talk to us occasionally," he drawled, and was awarded with Chris's brow furrowing.

"Jim isn't eating?" Trust him to focus on one of the items on the list that didn't pertain to him. Len sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I haven't been able to get a straight answer out of him about food since he left Sickbay, but that's not the part I was trying to convey, sir." Chris glared, but shook his head and waved his hand loosely.

"You don't understand, Leonard. Jim does this sometimes; you'll need to corner him and make him eat before he passes out. Doctor Phlox said something about his nesfatin levels becoming overstimulated during some high-stress situations, possibly due to his x-gene, but probably linked to-" Chris cut off, his face oddly contrite, and Len blinked in surprise. "Never mind why it happens, but it does." Len frowned, grabbing a PADD and calling up Jim's medical records.

"I don't remember seeing anything about it." Chris sighed, laying his PADD down in his lap.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Jim...took a little closer look at his record than necessary regarding that. He never agree with the diagnosis." A short scroll down the relevant section confirmed the older man's words, and Len scowled at the offending document before turning back to Chris. The dark blue eyes that were looking at him were not the eyes of Christopher Pike, Starfleet Captain, but of Chris Pike, concerned father; it wasn't ideal, but if worrying about Jim got the man to open up a bit, he would take it.

"We aren't done here, Chris." Raised eyebrows framed their mutual staredown, before Chris actually snorted out a laugh, a real laugh that had Len's eyebrows climbing up his head in shock. He listened for any tinge of hysteria in the tone, but it never came. The older man leaned forward, wrapping a hand around Len's wrist and squeezing lightly.

"You know, there have been moments, especially in the last few weeks, where I wondered why I recruited you in the first place...usually in my short moments of consciousness before you put me out again." Chris's lips twisted. "But you know what? I'm pretty sure you are the only son of a bitch crazy enough to deal with both Jim and myself on a regular basis besides John, and that makes you worth your weight in gold-pressed latinum." There was a light in the Captain's eyes that he hadn't seen since he had regained consciousness after the surgery, and that was enough to make a band of tension untwist from his shoulders.

"I guess it shows that I'm as crazy of a bastard as everyone says I am." Chris's smile softened, and he squeezed Len's wrist one last time before releasing it and settling back in his seat.

"You are as crazy as a damn fox, Leonard, and are the better man for it." Chris raised a hand, giving an imperious wave. "Now get out of here, go feed my idiot kid, and don't tell me any details beyond that." Len snorted as he opened the curtains, stepping out and surveying the quiet sickbay before turning his head over his shoulder.

"I will be back later, Captain. Play nice with the rest of the staff." He could see one of the nurses boggle at his cheek out of the corner of his eye, but Chris snorted.

"Get out of here, you ornery bastard." He could do that. After a few minutes of updating M'Benga, he left sickbay behind, stopping by the bridge with no results before checking his quarters, also with no results, before remembering that he was on a goddamned starship.

"Computer, locate Captain Kirk."

"Captain Kirk is in Engineering." He had a bad feeling about this. He headed into the bowels of the ship, gaining more than a few curious glances as he found his way into Main Engineering. It was his first time down there for more than a few seconds, and it was as crazy and complicated as he expected it would be.

"Doctor! You are a sight for sore...eyes?" That wasn't Jim, but he couldn't help the smile that snuck onto his face at the voice.

"Good to see you, Gaila- and yes, your usage is correct." The green-skinned woman's face split in a brilliant smile, and he found himself with an armful of Orion hugging him before he could say anything further.

"I didn't realize you were on here, at first; I was so worried that you all had been on one of the other ships! I thought Nyota was dead until I heard her over the intercom, and then Jim was here too and he's got wings and I'm wondering how they would look with some nice chain mesh jewelry draped over the top-" Len gently placed his index finger on Gaila's lips, and she ground to a halt.

"Gaila, I'm afraid we will have to catch up later. I need to find Jim." She nodded, pointing towards an undefined place in the distance.

"Humans can be pale, but he's not looking too good, I think. Almost like if he had been drinking." Yeah, he had let this go on too long. He nodded to Gaila and turned to go find the brat, when a slender green finger tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm not quite sure how humans with wings work, but is he supposed to be losing his feathers? I've seen at least ten drop out just today." Len groaned and slapped a palm over his eyes.

"No, that's not a good thing. Thank you for telling me." Gaila hummed in reply, and he set off to find Jim. It didn't take long. Engineering gave him more room to move, and he looked up to find him with some sort of tool working on an ill-placed something or rather. Another officer was passing him tools when he asked, and he decided to just relax for a moment, watching Jim flutter up and down until a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

"Here to collect the Captain?" Scott indicated the obvious with a quick flail of a hand, and Len rolled his eyes before nodding.

"He's avoiding some medical things we need to discuss." The older man frowned, and picked up his comm.

"He doesn't look right all, so that doesn't surprise me one bit. I've been picking feathers out of cooling ducts all day, Doctor, that's just not a thing I should need to be doing." The Scotsman lifted his comm to his mouth with an annoyed expression. "Ensign Sugiyama, ask the captain to come down here, please." Leonard frowned as he watched the small figure wave Jim over, talking to him briefly before the winged man turned and descended, landing with a soft flap before tucking them back into their resting position.

"What's up, Scotty-" Jim trailed off as he noticed Len, who was sizing the younger man up. Jim looked like shit. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes dull and shoulders slumped; Len could see where small clumps of feathers had fallen out, and he was actually shaking. What was with both father and son and not saying anything for their own damn good? Jim was giving him a nervous glance, and looked about ready to run for it. Len looked over at the engineer, who was watching the silent encounter with undisguised interest.

"You'll need to excuse Jim for the evening, Mr. Scott. He needs to rest." Jim opened his mouth to protest, but was driven quiet by a quick glare. Scott nodded, putting his hands on Jim's shoulders and steering him over to him.

"He's right, laddie; you've looked downright wrung out today. Your help is always appreciated, but we can handle it ourselves for now." The younger man frowned, but didn't fight back when Len wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Scott gave him a shrug and a faint smile before walking off, and Len guided the two of them out of Engineering. Jim pulled away as soon as the doors opened, a tired scowl on his face.

"Bones, I know what you are going to say, but I'm not hungry. Let me get back to work." Len bit back the sharp answer he wanted to say, instead choosing to level a serious look at the acting captain.

"Do you really want to do this here, Jim?" He watched as Jim's wings actually fluffed up in response, although his face remained blank. Len was seeing more advantages to Jim's wings everyday. It took a few more seconds before he could get the ill-looking man to move. They didn't say another word to each other until the door closed behind them in their quarters, Jim wheeling on him almost instantly.

"Bones, what the hell do you want? I'm not fucking lying-" He trailed off as Len approached with a tricorder, settling for glaring instead of arguing.

"Jim, I know you aren't lying. Thank god there's someone else on this tin can who knows your medical history, that's all I gotta say." That got the younger man's attention, the glare shifting to an almost guilty expression that made Len sigh.

"Bones, that...whatever Phlox called it, is a load of shit." He looked down at his tricorder readings, raising an eyebrow as he sat it down on the desk with a tired sigh.

"Jim, when was the last time you ate?" Jim's eyes darted away from his, looking at the wall behind as if it was revealing the secrets of the universe. "Jim, I'm guessing by these readings that you've had little more than a bagel or two and about twenty liters of coffee in the last four to five days. The fact you are still standing, let alone able to fly, which I know damn well takes even more energy is mind-boggling. The readings are clear, Jim; Doctor Phlox wasn't making it up." The younger man still wasn't looking at him, but he could see the denial in his eyes as he moved in, gently lifting Jim's shirt enough to look at his stomach. The ribs were becoming too defined for Len's taste, and his hipbones were starting to jut out. Len closed his eyes and let the shirt drop back into position. This was his fault; he had been so preoccupied with everything else that he hadn't been paying attention to Jim. Wrapping his hands around Jim's slender waist, he stroked his thumbs up and down his sides, the black fabric rippling as Jim shivered, finally turning his head and meeting his eyes again.

"Bones, I- fuck. I've just been so busy, and you've been busy, and I haven't had time to think about food-" Jim stopped, searching Len's face before bringing his hands up to cup the sides of Len's neck. "Bones, it's not your fault. Shit happens, alright?" Jim pulled away, walking over to the bed and working his shirt off. "Let's just go to bed, we'll feel better in the morning." Len pursed his lips as the younger man's too-thin frame came into view, and he shook his head.

"No, we both need to eat, and you need supplements to stabilize everything you've thrown out of wack by effectively starving yourself these last few days. I'll get something sent up from the mess." His tone booked no argument, and Jim didn't bother starting one, instead choosing to sag into the mattress. Len walked over to the comm and ordered some stew for the two of them, before opening up his medical kit and fishing out the appropriate hyposprays.

"Aw, Bones, not again-" Jim winced as the hyposprays were depressed into his neck one after the other; if Len was being a little nicer than before, he wasn't going to admit to it. Stowing the used hypos, he cleaned off the small table in preparation of their dinner, occasionally peeking out of the corner of his eye to check on Jim, who had slumped onto his back on the bed, wings open and draping oddly off the sides. Just as the chime to the door sounded, he looked over to see several down feathers drift to the carpet, and didn't bother to disguise the twitch that started in his eyebrow as he claimed the tray from the ensign, closing the door before she got too inquisitive.

"Food's here, Jim." The only response he got as he placed the tray down on the table was an inarticulate grunt from the bed, and he snorted. "Jim, get your skinny ass out of bed and get over here."

"I'll eat later." The younger man's voice was muffled by an arm thrown over his face, and Len sighed.

"No, you'll eat now." Grabbing Jim's hands, he pulled the mildly resisting young man to his feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and steering him to the table before he could flop back into bed.

"I'm starting to feel like a doll or something, the way everyone keeps dragging me everywhere," Jim groused as he turned the chair backwards and settled down in it. "Beef stew?" Len nodded, grabbing a spoon and tucking in. He kept his eyes on Jim, however, who picked up his spoon and stirred his stew aimlessly.

"Jim, stop playing with your food." Jim frowned, but finally took a bite; it seemed to trigger something in his head, and Len relaxed minutely as Jim began to eat in earnest. The meal went swiftly, with Jim actually finishing up by drinking the dregs straight from the bowl. "You seemed to have found your appetite." The younger man set the bowl down with a clunk and a sigh.

"Alright, you win. You and Phlox." Len wiped his mouth, dropping the napkin down by his own empty bowl.

"This isn't a contest, Jim. It's a matter that could have become serious if I hadn't been told about it by Chris." Both men rose to their feet, and Jim headed into the bathroom before Len could say anything further. A short time later, when they were both in bed, Len recalled the odd redirect he had gotten from the ailing captain. "Jim? Quick question." The lump next to him shifted, and he got a rather appealing view of blue eyes and and full lips as Jim's eyes focused on him.

"Hmm?" Len chuckled at the drowsy tone, and leaned in to give the other man a quick kiss.

"Your dad said something kind of strange when he was telling me about your little issue." Jim looped an arm around Len's waist as he gave him a half-awake look.

"What was that?" Jim mumbled, drawing a hint of a smile out of Len.

"He made it sound like this issue has nothing to do with your x-gene, but he changed the subject before I could say anything." Jim stiffened, and Len frowned. "Jim?" The drowsiness was gone from the younger man's eyes, and he remained silent as Jim licked his lips and gathered his thoughts.

"It's nothing. Something that happened before he took me in." Of course it was nothing. It was always nothing. Len took a deep breath, then let out a tired sigh.

"Is it really nothing, or am I going to get another unpleasant surprise sometime in the future?" Jim shook his head.

"This was it, Bones. Nothing else." Len searched the younger man's face for any sign of deceit, but the eyes that looked back at him were earnest, if guarded. Len gave him a slight nod.

"Okay. I won't push." He could feel Jim relax a bit, and he scooted in and wrapped his arm around the younger man's middle, squeezing lightly. "Jim, you can tell me anything. Don't forget that." The hesitant smile Jim gave him was reflected more in his eyes than his mouth, but Len was still relieved to see it.

"It really is ancient history, Bones; I don't even think about it anymore unless it comes up for some reason." Jim wasn't lying, he knew when Jim was lying. Jim obfuscating was a different story, but Len knew where to pick his battles, and the last thing he wanted to do was make the younger man feel more exposed than he already did. There was enough lost secrets out in the open; there was no reason to add another to Jim's burden if there wasn't a real reason to do so. He shifted, patting Jim on the hip as he let his eyes drift closed.

"Let's get some sleep, and don't get pissy with me when I keep bothering you about meals over the next few days." He couldn't say he was surprised when he was jabbed rather painfully in the side a few moments later.

"I don't get pissy, you jackass!" Jim growled; Len snorted and pulled the slim man a little closer, drawling out a whispered reply.

"Keep telling yourself that, darlin'."

* * *

"Well, you don't look like you are going to pass out at the drop of a hat anymore. I know that I have Leonard to thank for that, so spare me the insulted glare, Jim." Chris rolled his eyes at the insulted expression on Jim's face, and Len rolled his eyes at the both of them as he did his standard checks on Chris's vitals. They had reached an impasse in the last few days, with Chris trying his best to keep his moods more stable, at least when anyone was around, at any rate, and Jim was actually eating again. He knew it wouldn't last forever, but he sure as hell would enjoy it while it lasted. Len raised an eyebrow as Jim recounted the feather-snatching fiasco of a week ago, pulling a bemused chuckle out of his dad and making him crack a tiny smile before leaving the Captain's bedside, pulling the curtains closed behind him. He had a few new scans of Chris's brain being analyzed by the computer, and he needed to review the results. It didn't take long. Against the muffled sounds of Jim's voice and the even softer tones of Chris's, Len looked at the console screen with a pinched expression. It was about as good as he had hoped, which unfortunately wasn't much. Chris had improved, the exhaustion and fragility of the first days fading into the background, but his brain still wasn't communicating correctly with his legs. He was beginning to think that there wasn't much that he could do, though, and he was certainly at a standstill until they reached Earth again. Len looked up from the console and glanced back towards Chris's alcove, worrying his knuckle between his teeth. The good captain was only going to get worse at staying in bed as the days went by. He needed to devise something that let him move around a bit, even if was only to an observation deck and back. Chris sure as hell wasn't going on any sort of active duty, regardless of his assertions to the contrary. Len sighed and straightened, leaning back and feeling his spine crack as he turned back towards the captain's bed. His eyebrow twitched upwards as the volume of the voices increased, and he sighed and stalked back to the curtains. It was time to play referee again. Closing the curtains behind him, Len leveled a glare at both father and son.

"You two need to knock it off. The curtains muffle most of the sound, but if you start yelling, they aren't going to do shit." He checked the biobed readings out of habit, listening to the two men mutter under their breath while he did so. As soon as he finished, he leveled a glare on Jim, who frowned and crossed his arms.

"What?" Len pointed a finger at the younger man.

"You, stop being a pain. Just tell the man what's going on; you aren't going to cause him any health problems by keeping him filled in." Jim looked away, his lips twisting, and Len turned his finger on Chris, who was straight-faced and looking at the curtain. "-and you, stop antagonizing him just because you are bored. I know it stinks to be stuck in here all the time, but taking it out on Jim isn't going to solve anything." Chris looked away from the curtains and back at him; the two men stared each other down until the older man blinked and sighed.

"I hate it when you're right, Leonard." Len raised an eyebrow in amusement, and Chris rolled his eyes.

"What was that, Captain? I don't think I heard you right." Jim snickered, and he turned his focus to the feathered half of the father and son. "Got something to add, Jim?" Jim shook his head, and Len rolled his eyes before looking between Chris and Jim. "Jim, are you going to be busy for the next hour?" Jim blinked.

"Not unless I'm needed for anything specific. I've all but been banned from Engineering after one of the Ensigns accidently set the edge of my right wing on fire, and I think Scotty is a little afraid of you, so he booted me out before anything else could happen." Jim was pouting, but Len frowned.

"When did this happen?" Jim waved a hand in dismissal, before lifting the pertinent wing and grabbing the end.

"Two days ago. We put it out almost immediately, Bones, it never reached anywhere that would actually hurt." Len reached forward and took the wing in hand, looking down to see several awkwardly shortened feathers, but no other signs of burning.

"That shit down in Engineering is better done by the people who, you know, actually work in that department anyhow. They can survive without you for awhile." He let go of Jim's wing, the younger man bringing it to rest against his back. "Anyway, since Jim has some free time, why don't the two of you go for a trip. You can show Captain Pike the status of some of the repairs personally, and it'll get Captain Kirk off of your shitlist. Sound good?" Chris perked up, and Jim smiled. "I thought so. One hour, and if you don't feel well at anytime, come straight back here, alright?" Both men nodded, and Len smiled. "Then get yourself ready, Chris; I'll grab your chair, but I'm going to leave you two to it. I need to do my rounds."

"Thank you, Leonard." Len waved off his thanks as he left his room to get the wheelchair, quickly delivering it before returning to his other patients. The two captains rolled out of Sickbay a few minutes later, and he grinned and went to go check inventory. The things he had to do sometimes- but it was all far better than the alternative.

Chris was redelivered to Sickbay exactly one hour and three minutes later, with Jim blaming busy turbolifts for the delay as they settled the older captain back onto his familiar bed. The time away, as short as it was, had clearly done some good for both men, who were smiling and chattering away about something involving the communications relays that Len could barely follow, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back. There was nothing like a job well done, especially when it involved anyone named Pike or Kirk. Jim left soon after, smacking him in the butt with his left wing as he left the curtains and disappeared through the doors before he could complain to the younger man. Chris was carefully not looking at him, but the smirk on his face as he stared at the PADD that he had acquired told him that he had seen Jim's little stunt.

"If you get any redder, Leonard, your staff is going to worry that you are having a heart attack." Len could feel his face get even warmer, and he snarled.

"You don't pay me enough to put up with with you two and Commander Spock," he grumbled, leaving the curtains and flinging them closed behind him without looking back; he took great pains to ignore the laughter pouring from the area he had just vacated as he stormed into his office to splash some water on his face. Children. All of them. A quick glance in the mirror showed that he was presentable again, and he looked at the door for a moment before deciding to sit down at his desk, a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. While the fact that he had done that in the middle of Sickbay in front of Chris was a bit irritating and definitely embarrassing; the fact he had so carelessly done it at all was heartening. Jim was getting accustomed to being, well, himself in public, whether the younger man believed it or not. The stiff posture that had been forced by the harness was gone, replaced by the smooth, swaying gait that he had gotten to observe for a short while back in the Sierras; Jim was truly comfortable in his own skin in public for the first time, and it showed. Len knew he wasn't the only one who had noticed. People that hadn't or wouldn't have given Jim a second glance in the past were watching him with open interest now, and he- Len sighed, laying his head on his desk. He didn't know what he thought about it. It was great that the crew seemed open-minded to Jim, and besides the feather hiccup there hadn't been anything untoward happening, as far as he knew, but- He lifted his head just enough to bring it down against his desk with a whack. What had he expected? That he would be the only one that would know forever? He was a doctor, not a character in a bad romance holo; he wouldn't have been able to keep Jim to himself or some nonsense, hell, he had been planning on convincing Jim to ditch the harness anyway after graduation. Len knocked his head into his desk one last time before getting to his feet. It was clearly time for him to get some rest before he actually said something he would regret. He briefed M'Benga on what he needed to know, then set off for his room.

When Len woke up, he reached over, expecting to feel the press of a warm body next to him, but the bed was empty. He turned over and mashed his face into the pillows. The idiot was probably soldering some connection on the roof of Engineering again or something equally dangerous and unnessassary that one of the others could easily do with a goddamned ladder. He probably skipped dinner, too. Whipping back the bedcovers, he got to his feet, shucked his clothing, then staggered into the shower, enjoying once again the fact that the systems that let him enjoy hot water hadn't been damaged in the battle. It also had meant that after the first few days, he hadn't been stuck on a ship filled with unwashed people, either. That alone was almost enough to make him happy. Almost. He killed the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel from the rack and drying himself off before wrapping it around his waist and walking out of the bathroom. He didn't notice that he had company until he lifted his head just in time to see a flash of what had long become his favorite shade of blue before crashing into the other person, sending them both to the floor. An aborted moan caused Len to snap his eyes open. His chin was on Jim's shoulder, and he was laying chest to chest with the other man; they may have been right at the same height, but the lithe, slender frame below him was nothing like his own.

"Bones, not that I don't love you to death, but you are kinda heavy." He was also crushing the younger man into the floor. Feeling his face heat, he scrambled backwards off of Jim, the other man giving an exaggerated gasp for breath before sitting up and giving him a rather lazy lookover, his expression turning naughty. "Well, now I know for certain that all of you is pretty amazing." Len blinked at Jim blankly, before something in his brain suggested he look down.

"Oh, damnit." Len grabbed the wayward towel and rewrapped it around his waist, trying and failing to ignore the playful leer he could see out of the corner of his eye. "Well, what's going on? Did you get something to eat, because I know you didn't get any sleep." He got to his feet and manuvered around Jim as he spoke, grabbing underwear and a clean uniform and throwing them on before he turned to face the younger man again. Jim gave him a pout, but shook his head.

"Well, Mom, I did manage to scrounge up a sandwich with Scotty, but I'm too busy to get any sleep just yet. I just stopped by to give you something and ask you a favor." Len frowned, but decided to leave it alone. One out of two wasn't bad, and he needed the food more regularly than sleep right now. Running a hand through his damp hair, he looked over as Jim picked up two PADDs off the table and held them out to him.

"What are those for?" Jim grinned, bouncing on his heels, and Len raised an amused eyebrow at his antics. "Well?" Jim jiggled the hand holding the PADDs, and Len took them, glancing at the blank screens to see if they had any answers. Jim chuckled, and Len could feel light rushes of air against his face as the still-bouncing man fluttered his wings. "You get any more hyper and I'm going to ask Scott what the hell kind of sandwich you ate, Jim." Jim snorted, giving one hard flap of his wings in Len's direction, messing up his hair.

"So I'm a little wired; you should see Scotty and Uhura." The grin that followed was a bit too manic for Len's taste, but it faded. "We are doing a few more checks of the system, but we got it working! Well, at least the incoming, anyway."

"Incoming?" Jim gave him a dry look, and it hit him. "Incoming transmissions?" Jim truly had a beautiful smile, and Len reached out and brushed his thumb down the lines that always emerged at the corners of his eyes when it made its appearance, causing Jim to smile even wider. "That's fantastic, Jim. I'm guessing we have messages on these?" Jim nodded, sending Len's hand away from his temples and into his hair, which definitely needed a wash. "I assume you've already read yours?"

"No, we haven't announced this to the ship yet. I-" Jim leaned forward, tapping a finger against the PADD on top. "I wanted Dad to have his messages first." His voice was soft, and Len let his fingers traces imaginary lines on Jim's scalp as he smiled.

"Nothing wrong with that." The gratitude in Jim's eyes was brief, but there. Had Jim expected him to be unhappy with that request? His opinion must have shown on his face, as Jim frowned slightly and stepped away from him.

"The other one has your messages on it. If you want to look at yours first, I totally understand-" Len rolled his eyes, and Jim trailed off.

"Jim, I would be happy to give your father his messages first, you silly brat. Are you sure you don't want to do it, though?" The younger man looked embarrassed at his earlier presumption, but covered it admirably before shaking his head.

"No, I need to get back, we are pretty close to getting outgoing working, and I want to get that done as soon as possible."

"Jim, you need to get some rest first." Jim shook his head as he backed up towards the door.

"Later, Bones, we seriously are almost done." That sharp hunter's focus that Len was seeing more and more was taking over Jim's expression, and he knew there was no way he'd be able to convince the younger man otherwise while he was like this. Wedging the PADDs under his arm, he nodded.

"If you aren't done by the end of Gamma, I'm dragging you back here to sleep personally." Razor-sharp eyes met his own, but he didn't back down. "Jim, you need to sleep more than once every three days. The ship isn't falling apart, you can spare a little time." Jim remained silent, and they continued to stare each other down until Jim acquiesced with a sigh, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

"Alright, Bones. It'll hopefully be done by then, so you won't have to drag me." Len's lips twitched involuntarily, and Jim frowned. "What?"

"What if I want to drag you back?" Jim's cheeks started to color, and before Len could say anything further, Jim had spun on his heels and ran out the door.

"Things to do, Bones! Talk to you later!" The younger man's voice faded as he fled down the hall, and Len snickered before he could help himself. Revenge was a wonderful thing sometimes.

* * *

"Captain." Chris looked up at Len, the older man's eyes focusing on him slower than usual. He had obviously interrupted the captain's musings, but this was important. Chris glanced to the curtains and gestured, and Len reached back and closed them.

"What's going on?" Chris sounded curious, and Len gave the man a soft smile.

"Long-range communications have been restored, for the most part." Now that was clearly interesting to the captain, who sat up and raised an amused eyebrow.

"That is excellent news, of course, but Jim would have told me that about two hours from now, if he didn't get distracted by something else." Oh, Jim was distracted, all right, but that was neither here nor there; Jim had asked him to do this for him, and as tempting as reading his own messages first had been, Chris deserved this. Shaking his head lightly, he held out one of the PADDs Jim had given him earlier.

"The backlog of incoming transmissions are being routed to their proper locations, and you get to be the first recipient of your personal messages." He was smiling pretty widely now, and the spark of emotion he saw in Chris's eyes made it even brighter. "Jim wanted to make sure you had yours first." Chris leaned over and took the PADD from him and booted it up, his eyes immediately scanning the list. Len barely kept back a chuckle. He was as bad as Jim was in hiding his excitement sometimes. He could see John's name stamped to the top of the first message Chris loaded, and absently fiddled with the biobed settings as he watched the blue-grey eyes soften as he read. Len wasn't one of those who believed that every deep friendship could or would turn into a romantic one, but Chris and John were most certainly inclined that way- even if John was a chickenshit about it and Chris was seriously fucking clueless. You would never believe that the two men were some of the most lauded and decorated officers in the Federation the way they dealt with each other sometimes. No longer able to resist temptation, he leaned in slightly to try and peek at the message, but Chris wasn't that oblivious.

"Are you eavesdropping, Doctor?" Len didn't do innocent, but the droll look that he shot Chris garnered him an eyeroll. "Get out of here, Leonard, and tell Jim to stop sending you to spy on me." Len smirked at the older man.

"Who said he sent me?" Chris barked out a laugh, before shifting the PADD to his left hand and leaning over, giving him a push towards the curtains.

"Scoot. You're as bad as that kid of mine." Hell no. This meant war, and Len made sure to communicate that to the captain, who raised a self-satisfied eyebrow and held his gaze. Len backed down with an eyeroll and a smile, opening the curtains and slipping out.

"Yessir." He only took a few steps past the curtains before stopping; he could hear the crackle that announced the start of an audio message, and he couldn't help himself. The instant he heard John's voice, though, he felt horrendously guilty.

_"God, Chris, I hope_-" Len heard John's voice crack, which both horrified and boggled him; John clearly prided himself on his control, humor his usual outlet for emotions, and this was nothing close to anything he had ever heard from the admiral. "_We just received the notice that you were taken hostage, and that Commander Spock was taking the ship to rendezvous with the majority of the fleet. By the same ship that killed George! What the hell are you thinking, old man! Jim doesn't need to be losing both of his fathers the same goddamned way! Vulcan is gone, and I can't find Jim anywhere. I know he was supposed to be grounded after the Kobayashi Maru stunt, and_-" He could hear John's shaky intake of breath, and started to slide away from Chris's area as quietly as he could, John's voice fading quickly as he did so. "-_if you leave me to have to tell your son that you got yourself killed by some Romulan wackjob, I'm going to_-"

No more. After managing to pull back a few meters without disturbing the captain, he turned and walked into his office, sitting down at his desk and picking up the PADD with his messages, suddenly feeling rather jealous of Chris. Would anyone back on Earth sound like that for his sake? Len snorted derisively at himself, powering up the PADD. God, he was pathetic. Besides Jim, the only one he really cared about receiving any messages from was Joanna, and he could only hope that she had sent him one. It wasn't like her mother was allowing her to send messages regularly or anything. Scanning the list, he was pleasantly surprised. There were four from Joanna, two from John, even two from Jocelyn; an aunt he had only spoken to once or twice since his father had died had even sent him one, and there was one from Annie, Tom Lennox's younger sister. With a few exceptions, he knew the first and second years had not been ordered to report for duty, so Annie had remained on Earth while they all went up. Tom was probably going to be bombarded with messages- Len froze. What ship had Tom been assigned to? Powering up his primary console, he managed to push his way through several levels of clearances before the dossier he wanted appeared on his screen. Shit. Of the survivors they had managed to pick up, not one of them had been from the Mayflower, and she had been listed as having gone down with all hands. Len closed his eyes and glanced back at the names listed with his messages. He had been so busy since the battle had ended that he hadn't spared a lot of thought to where people might have ended up; Gaila's presence onboard the Enterprise had been a very pleasant surprise, but- Setting his PADD down again, Len started calling up names. The first one that came to mind, for some reason, was Jearo; the man had nursed a serious chip on his shoulder when it came to Jim for their entire time at the academy, although his antics had been mostly absent as they had entered the home stretch before their graduation. The man's information came up, and he sighed. Jim wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. Stipe was next, and he was informed when he tried to access the information that there were two Stipes, a Stipe Senior and a Stipe Junior. Definitely Junior. The man's thin face flashed on the screen, and he scanned the text. Enterprise. Interesting. As Stipe wasn't one of the bodies still being stored in their hobbled together morgue, and he had no memory of the man coming by Sickbay, he was probably fine. He knew Smithson was onboard, considering he was the man who had hauled Jim back up to the bridge after he had managed some transporter sorcery courtesy of Scott. As he punched in a few more names, mostly fellow medical track cadets, he wondered what Stipe and Smithson thought of Jim's big reveal. He had the feeling that Cupcake wouldn't really care, as it was still Kirk under the wings, but he didn't have a handle on Stipe. He didn't really care to. Taking one last look at the information of a nurse that he had occasionally grabbed a coffee with, her elegy written in only a single word on the screen, he shook his head. Looking at the names of dead acquaintances was a deep hole he didn't want to fall into. He needed to focus on the living. Powering down the console, he returned to the PADD with the messages waiting for him. After a moment of deliberation, he decided to just view them in chronological order. John's was first, a short text missive basically stating that he knew that he had done something to get Jim onboard, and he better hope that they were both around so they could back it up to the higher ups. It wasn't the strangest way of saying stay alive that he had ever seen, but it was close. Jocelyn's was second, an even shorter note saying that he better have not died, because she didn't want to deal with explaining it to Joanna. Len snorted.

"You never change, Jocelyn." The one from his aunt was third, and she wrote as congenially as she had always spoken; he couldn't help a smile as he read her message.

"_Dearest Leonard, I know we haven't spoken much these last few years, but hearing the news of what happened to Vulcan and the small tidbits of information we have heard about the the fleet made me realize that I shouldn't have let myself neglect you so. I pray you are well, my dear nephew, and I expect to hear from you as soon as you are able_."

"Yes Ma'am," Len whispered. Jocelyn's second message was next, basically reiterating what the first had said, as well has letting him know that Joanna was going to be sending a message of two of her own. He would concede that she was less cold on this one, but that was about it. At one time, it would have hurt, but now it just made him sigh. Joanna's first message was also the first audio and video one, and he settled back in his chair as he dialed it up. Her familiar face splashed across the screen, and he found himself blinking rapidly as he admired the freckles that were still a stripe across her nose.

"_Hi Daddy! I'll make this short, because I don't know if you have message limits or anything. The news has been saying all these really depressing things, and they won't say if any of the ships that were sent to Vulcan had problems, but it's really obvious that something happened_." Joanna stopped, her mouth setting into a sad pout that made Len frown. "_You better be okay, Daddy. I don't mind Clay all that much, but he's not you. He's more like an uncle or something, even if Mom tries to tell me to call him Dad instead_." The heartache that had been creeping into his chest suddenly expanded at his little girl's last statement, but the recording continued to play. "_So yeah, you have to be fine because otherwise Mom will never shut up about it, alright? Send me a message when you can_." She had bravado, that was sure. Len thought about just stopping there, but he decided to plow forward and watch the rest. John's second message came between Joanna's second and third, asking him to take care of Chris and Jim, since they were both "idiots who like throwing themselves at problems, and not always in the metaphorical way," and he groaned at the words.

"No shit, Admiral. One of them being a moron is bad enough, but to have it in tandem? You get to deal with Chris from now on. I absolve myself of the burden." He was just grumbling now, but the truth of the statement hit him with a wince. Unless he and Jim got punted out of Starfleet, John would be the one primarily helping Chris now. He had no doubts that there would be permanent loss of mobility due to the captain's injuries, although he hoped to minimize that as much as possible. Until he was able to go back in with the equipment he was unable to employ the first time around, however, Chris was going to be basically confined to a wheelchair. The memory of Chris and Jim dancing together back at the ball at the end of their first year came to mind, and Len felt his resolve strengthen. It would be a hell of a challenge, and it would depend on the secondary surgery and Chris's own determination, but he would do his best. He may have never joined Starfleet if it wasn't for the captain, and in turn never would have met Jim; he had long since realized that he didn't want to be in a Starfleet without Jim Kirk in it, even if he hadn't quite pounded out how far he would take that comment in regards to his personal life yet.

Yeah right.

The newest message was from Joanna, and he hesitated in opening it. They weren't far from Earth now, he knew they would get home in one piece as long as no other massive ships of doom from the future fell out of the proverbial sky, but something still stayed his hand. Len stared at the PADD for a long moment before mashing his finger into the screen to start the message.

"_Hi Daddy! The news feeds are getting a little more detailed about things, and they've kinda...what was that word...implied that some of the ships got blown up at Vulcan. You better have not been on one of those, Dad, or I'm going to beat you up, okay? So, um...send me a message to let me know you aren't dead, yeah? Please_?"

Chapel was kind enough to clear her throat when she walked in, letting him tear his eyes away from his daughter's tear-streaked face and wipe his face of his own.

* * *

"John got Porthos back." Len blinked in surprise as he ran his tricorder over Chris as he rested on his bed, noting the readings before stowing the device.

"I thought you said he got swiped when some over-zealous officer had an argument with John and decided to use him to prove his theory." Chris nodded, quirking a smile that was starting to emerge far easier than it had been a week earlier.

"The floppy-eared fuzzball appeared on the transporter of the Jiameng as they were returning to Earth, perfectly fine. Considering that the officer who had pulled that stunt in the first place is now onboard the Enterprise, it was probably a good thing all around. It'll save on the arguments later." Len froze, running through potential people before realizing that there was only one logical choice.

"It has to be Scott, considering the only other new people are Jim and the Vulcans, and as much as Jim likes to pester John, using his dog for a transporter experiment isn't quite his style." He raised an eyebrow and gave the lounging man a smirk. "I suppose this explains why Scott was on Delta Vega, then." Chris's face went carefully blank, and Len snorted. "Yeah, I thought so."

"Scott's expertise was suited for repairing the equipment at the Delta Vega outpost, as well as perform a collection of upgrades on the facility." Chris spoke like he was quoting from the man's orders, and Len shook his head. "I've learned over the years to not get between John and his dogs. He can be a bit irrational when it comes to them." The older man rolled his eyes, picking at his sheet absently. "So, Leonard, how is Jim doing? He keeps that smile of his plastered to his face whenever I see him, but I can see the cracks growing behind it. I've had years of practice." Len looked at Chris blankly, trying to catch up with the abrupt change of conversation; Chris looked at him expectantly as Len lowered himself into the chair by the captain's bedside.

"The honest truth? I think he's scared shitless. Not about any of the 'fleet related stuff, from what I can tell, but about his new reality in general. He can't just put the harness back on and expect everyone to disregard him anymore. Until the academy, I would bet Jim had largely kept to himself. Sure, maybe he had a friend or two here and there, but the only one he's ever mentioned was Carol, and even that relationship ended relatively quickly, from what little I've heard of it." Chris sighed, and Len waited.

"Carol was a sweet young woman, she truly didn't care about Jim's apparent physical flaws, and enjoyed talking with him like the intelligent person he is; between Jim's insecurities, her mother, and her clear focus on her studies, however, their relationship was doomed from the start. I think it was a good experience for Jim, though; it forced him to let someone at least get somewhat closer besides John and I, even if he didn't fess up to his big secret." Chris looked towards the closed curtains, but his eyes weren't focusing on anything. "I'm going to do what I can to cushion the blow to Jim regarding his unique genetics from the Starfleet side of things, but I think we all know that the media is going to have a field day with this. It's not just that there's a person with an active x-gene, it's also the fact he's one of the heroes of the-" Chris cut himself off, clearly trying to find the words to continue. "-one of the heroes of this mess. Don't be surprised when the reporters and photographers are tripping over each other to try and get a piece of all of us, and when Jim is number one on their wanted list." Len grimaced. He had entered Starfleet so he could keep working in his profession, not to become famous. It was both amazing and horrifying what could happen in twenty-four hours, and the fact that the Enterprise had so few casualties made the situation even more surreal for them. The remains of thousands of officers and cadets had been left behind as they had fled the black hole where Vulcan had once existed, and Vulcan- Vulcan was a tragedy on a scale that he didn't think he'd ever truly comprehend. He didn't want to understand it, didn't want to believe he could ever rationalize the deaths of so many. His mood must have showed on his face, because Chris's hand was squeezing his shoulder, the warmth from the other man pulling him from his dark thoughts. "We will remember them, Leonard. We will honor them, and then we will move forward. To dwell on what we could not change will drive us mad, and it's not what they would have wanted. Everyone in Starfleet has lost friends, lovers, and family from this disaster, the Vulcans have lost their home planet and over ninety-five of their total population, and that includes the populations on their pre-existing colonies, and it will probably be the catalyst for a new wave of change within Starfleet and the Federation." Chris's expression was tired, and Len nodded.

"Geoff- Doctor M'Benga, I mean, told me shortly after I finished your surgery that we would be returning to a whole new world," he mused, watching Chris as he glanced towards the curtains again before meeting his eyes.

"He's right." Len reached up and clasped Chris's hand in thanks, before rising to his feet.

"I think that's what we are all afraid of." He pulled the curtain open and stepped out, freezing when an idea came to mind. "Captain, I have a proposition for you." Shuffling noises behind him told him that he had the older man's attention, and he continued. "I think you are more than well enough to do a bit of wandering around the ship by yourself, if you would like to. As long as you let me keep a monitoring device on you, I think I can trust you to use a little common sense."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Doctor," Chris said drily, and Len chuckled.

"You do that." Of course, now that he had put forth the idea, Chris wanted to go then; Len decided to spare the others and prepare the captain for travel on his own, pulling up the wheelchair and helping him into a clean set of clothing he could be seen in outside of Sickbay, but held back as Chris attempted the transfer to the wheelchair on his own. The older man's arms had lost a little definition during his stay in Sickbay, but they had been careful to monitor and keep his limbs active as much as possible, and as such, Chris hoisted himself into the chair without any serious strain. Len stood back as Chris automatically grabbed the wheels, pushing himself out of his room and into Sickbay proper. "It's good that you are moving yourself manually, but I do want to point out that you don't have to." The captain's face was set in fierce concentration, and he shook his head.

"I want to." Len nodded, more to himself than anyone else. Chris wanted something he could control, after having been basically bedridden for the last few weeks, and he could hardly begrudge the man that. Grabbing the monitor, he strapped it around the older man's arm, making sure it was secure before meeting Chris's eyes with a stern look.

"Do not take this off, it will alarm immediately if you do. If you start to feel unwell, come back here. If you think you won't be able to make it, hit the green button, it will tell us to come get you. Don't overdo it. Any questions?" Chris looked amused by his lecture, shaking his head.

"No questions. Can I go out and play now, Doctor McCoy?" Chris's tone was wry, but tinged with humor; Len rose to his full height and crossed his arms, giving the older man a considering look down his nose.

"Make sure to look both ways before crossing engineering, I keep catching Jim flitting about down there, and you don't want to get feathers caught in your hair." Chris laughed, spinning his chair around and heading towards the exit.

"It's not like it would be anything new, Doctor." The door hissed closed behind him, leaving Len to snort and turn back towards one of the nurses, who looked confused.

"It's not like what would be new?" He shrugged, raising an eyebrow at the nosy nurse before she got the hint and wandered off. Heading into his office, Len hit the comm.

"McCoy to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here. What do you need, Bones?"

"Just wanted to let you know that a certain desert fox has been sprung for a little while from his pen." He could hear the grin on the other end of the line, and more than one confused sound came through as background noise as Jim responded.

"Thanks for the heads up, Doctor. We all know that foxes are good at getting into trouble, after all." Len barely kept the snickering from erupting, but managed to take a deep breath and answer levelly.

"That they are, Captain. McCoy out." Len didn't stop laughing for the next five minutes, stopping only when Chapel popped into the office to make sure he hadn't completely lost it. After the last few weeks they had all had, it felt good to let go for awhile. Now he just had to convince the fledgling desert hawk of that as well before they returned to Earth.

* * *

"I've got people bugging me to let them send messages to their families, no matter how many times I explain that the system we've got rigged up isn't the most stable, and we need to keep it as unburdened as possible. I finally resorted to implying that we were ordered to maintain radio silence outside of official transmissions." Len looked at Jim, who was pacing back and forth in their quarters in a neat oval; he kept that up, they were going to have to replace the carpet when they reached Spacedock. The younger man's blue eyes were dull with exhaustion and stress, and after watching Jim make several more circuits of his floor, he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, bringing him to a halt. "The only person who has been allowed to have a personal transmission is-"

"Chris, and only because it was easily disguised as an official one. Helps that your old man's best pal is an admiral." Len tightened his arms, and Jim spread his wings enough in response so only the base of the wings were pressed against his chest, which also gave him clear access to Jim's neck. "Jim, you need to calm down. My blood pressure is going up just looking at you. The big wigs still don't know, do they?" Jim sagged slightly, and Len leaned in and nuzzled the ridge of vertebrae that stuck out. "Well?"

"No. I've been careful to position myself so it doesn't show anything below my shoulders when I'm speaking with them, and Uhura, Hawkins, and Spock have all been mum on the subject. And no, I didn't ask them to be. Spock's words were, and I quote, any ramifications regarding personal revelations on your part are irrelevant to Starfleet at this time. He's right, although I wonder if the admiralty will agree." Jim shivered as Len kissed the base of his neck, the fine hairs longer than usual. Jim probably hadn't had a haircut in several months, and it was really beginning to show.

"What do you think is going to happen once we dock?" Jim sighed.

"Well, if they follow regulations, the injured will be removed first, then everyone leaves except the core command crew and you and Scotty, basically. We are supposed to disembark last in case of emergency." The uncertain timbre of Jim's voice made him release the younger man and step back, Jim turning around to look at him. "What?"

"Those may be regs, but what do you think is going to happen?" Jim grimaced.

"I really don't know. I think they are going to do something, though. I just found out that they officially announced that the Enterprise was the only Federation starship to survive the battle. They mentioned that there were survivors from the other ships, but they are purposely leaving numbers out. We lost seven ships in a matter of minutes, Bones; it's the biggest single defeat in Federation history. The Romulans are denying they knew anything, and honestly, I don't think they did. The only reason the Klingons haven't started testing the waters is that they lost a large portion of their fleet only a day before we did." Len sighed, sitting down on the bed.

"But what does that mean for us?" The dark look on Jim's face as he sat down next to him told him everything. "We get to be media darlings." Jim shrugged, but his eyes confirmed it.

"Some of us more than others, unfortunately." Len had figured as much. One look at Jim and they were all going to piss themselves, he was certain of it; they needed to stay together as much as possible. He knew John had some influence, but there wasn't going to be enough pull in the universe to keep them off the news feeds.

"We are scheduled to dock in forty-six hours. They've offered to have Sickbay emptied early, but all that would do is cause an extra move for them that I decided would be completely unnecessary, considering your reports. If you think any of them need to be transferred before we arrive, let me know now, I'll call up Command." Len shook his head as he let himself flop back onto the bed.

"No, you made the right call. We have the resources to maintain the remaining patients without any problems, as long as we are back in a week or so, and none of them would markedly benefit from a difference of what, twenty-four hours or so after all the moves were done? It's not worth it." Jim nodded tightly as he bored a hole in the far wall with his eyes, and Len frowned before sitting back up. "Jim, I know there's a lot on your mind, but you need to try and relax a bit; if we got to Earth right now, the way you are, you'd either punch someone in the face or give yourself an ulcer." He was pretty damned worried too, but worry was more of a natural state with him; Jim was bred to action, to do something besides sitting around and stewing. When Jim had too much time to contemplate personal matters, things went sideways; his track record just in the time Len had known him spoke for itself.

"I'm fine, Bones. I'm just a little tired. It's been a busy last few days." He snorted, threading his arm under Jim's wings and wrapping it around his waist, pulling him in.

"Jim, we'll stay together as long as we possibly can, alright? Present a united front to keep the assholes from trying to pick us off one by one." The younger man gave him a grateful smile at his statement, but it was tempered by uncertainty. "What's wrong?"

"For about the first week or so, I don't know if I would have agreed with you." His head jerked towards Jim's in surprise, the other man ducking his gaze sheepishly.

"What do you mean by that?" Jim waved a hand loosely.

"Nothing big. Sulu was a bit uncertain about the whole x-gene thing for awhile. He wasn't rude or anything, but he wouldn't talk to me outside of official business, and he didn't like being alone with me. Considering we fought together on the drill, I thought that was weird, but I was so busy I didn't push it. Turns out there's a family legend of a great-great-great grandmother or someone getting murdered by a guy with the active gene that's been passed down the line, and Sulu just- just needed some time. He apologized and told me the story, saying that even if it was true, it would be like blaming a whole species for one criminal; it's completely illogical. I think with everything else that had just happened, it was just the last straw." Jim chuckled, but there was little mirth behind it. "It's not like people haven't been doing all sorts of wacky stuff in the last few weeks anyhow. Gaila hasn't left Engineering except to shower and change, for example. She's been sleeping in what has become Scotty's office along with him and Ensign Kelis. They've been having food brought down to them. I think Uhura even joined them a few times." Jim got to his feet and walked over to the bathroom, getting a glass of water before reemerging.

"You didn't tell me any of this," Len said as he watched Jim sip at his water, the younger man's Adam's apple bobbing as he did so.

"You had your own troubles, Bones; there was no need to saddle you with anymore of mine. It was really between Sulu and I, anyway." And it was. Jim wasn't a child, he knew how to handle himself and his own relationships without him butting in without cause. Len snorted inwardly. Jocelyn had told him more than once that he liked to worry over things that he had no business to be, and this was one thing in which she had been completely right. Jim believed it was behind him, behind both of them; he would drop the subject.

"Forty-six hours, right?" Jim finished off his water and smiled.

"Well, closer to forty-five, now." Len rolled his eyes, getting to his feet and grabbing the empty glass from Jim before entering the bathroom to get himself a drink of water. "Hey, I didn't say I was done with that." He saluted Jim with his ill-gotten drink before downing it in a single go with his eyes closed, setting the now-empty glass on the counter and walking back out of the bathroom with a smirk.

"No, you didn't." Len ended up with a face full of feathers as Jim accidentally forgot to draw in his wings as he walked past, and that couldn't have been a more solid declaration of war, in his opinion.

"Problem, Bones?" Len spat out the feather that had ended up in his mouth and turned, pinning Jim with a dark look that made the younger man take a step back.

"No, no problem." Jim let out a rather undignified squawk as Len lunged for his middle, grabbing him bodily around the waist and flinging him over his shoulder; Jim retaliated by sticking his hands up the back of his shirt and trying to tickle him, but he was only ticklish in a few spots, and his back wasn't one of them. "Good luck with that, kid; you aren't going to get much of anywhere." The cackle that followed worried him, and he turned around and moved towards the bed...just in case. Padding was a good thing sometimes.

"How about this, then?" Len jumped as Jim managed to wriggle his hands into his pants, and he struggled to keep upright as Jim kneaded at his buttocks like a cat while still cackling like a deranged hyena. Or maybe vulture was more accurate? He didn't know; the brat was one big animal metaphor. As Jim's hands left his rear alone and grabbed at the hem of his pants, he managed to reach the bed just as he was gifted with something he hadn't experienced since he was in junior high, causing him to lose his grip on the younger man and sending them both to the mattress with a groan. After laying there for a minute with Jim's right wing thrown over him and his head resting on Jim's thigh, he reached down with a wince and pulled his pants back out of his ass, ignoring the chuckle that came from the vicinity of his knees.

"How old are you, you infant?" Jim wriggled away from him, and Len enjoyed the feeling of fresh air for a moment before he was suddenly faced with a cool nose against his; his eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the face in front of him.

"Old enough." The statement was accompanied by an eyebrow waggle that made him snort, and when Jim repeated the action, he gave up on any remaining dignity he had left and burst out laughing; when Jim boggled at him before joining it, it made it that much better. Time was completely forgotten as they howled until they lay gasping in a heap, Jim sprawled on his back with his legs draped across Len's torso and his wings spread wide, the tips of the bottom feathers brushing against Len's cheek. "Y'know, Bones? I think I needed that, even if my sides disagree." Len let his eyes drift closed as Jim shifted on the bed next to him, the younger man's wiggling legs making his shirt ride up. Jim had been walking around during down times looking like a man headed to the gallows the last few days, but direct attempts to try and make him talk about anything had been crashing and burning before takeoff. If it took acting like a ten year old to smooth some of the lines that had been burrowing their way onto Jim's face, so be it; Jim needed to have his head on straight when they reached Spacedock, and the fact he was winding himself tighter than Spock would certainly not help matters. After there was no movement from Jim for awhile, he reached out and poked the man in the side.

"Jim, I'm not sleeping with your feet near my face." Jim grunted, but didn't budge.

"Don't wanna move." Len rolled his eyes and sat up, forcing Jim's legs into his lap.

"You're moving." It took a few minutes, but he managed to bully Jim into changing and getting ready for bed, the other man acquiesing with little more than a few grunts before tripping into a pair of soft cotton pants and collapsing back onto the bed. By the time Len had finished his own ablutions, Jim was sound asleep, drool seeping from the corners of his mouth into the pillow; he shook his head at the sight before yanking the covers from under Jim and getting into bed, letting the sheets settle on top of them. This was probably the last chance at a decent night's sleep before they arrived, and he wasn't going to waste it. He wrapped an arm over Jim's shoulders and ordered the lights off.

* * *

Len couldn't say that Jim wasn't a good judge of political bullshit. "They want us to go down first." The room was filled with the command and primary bridge staff, along with Scott and himself; Chris was also there, in his uniform for the first time since the whole thing had gone down, and it was a sight that had clearly cheered the others as they had entered. Jim's news was not popular, however; Scott was frowning at the declaration, but Spock was the first one to speak up.

"That disregards standard protocol in the complete debarkation of a starship." Spock didn't sound surprised, though, and Len figured that he had reached a similar conclusion as Jim did. Scott nodded rapidly in agreement, waving a hand towards the wall in an attempt to make some sort of point.

"Aye, we can't just leave the lady high and dry! What if something happens? I wouldn't trust some spacedock amateur to handle her in case of an emergency-" Jim shook his head, cutting the Scotsman off.

"I'll be blunt; they don't care. Honestly, I doubt this is really a surprise for any of you. The only person they actually...allowed to come down separately for medical reasons has already indicated he will go down with the rest of us, so this is more of a heads up for you all than anything. There's nothing we can do." Chris nodded in acknowledgement of Jim's reference, but stayed silent; Uhura made a hmphing sound, tapping a long nail on the tabletop.

"So in other words, prepare for the media shitstorm that we are being thrust smack into the middle of without any apology." The entire table grimaced, Captain Pike included; Spock even looked less than thrilled at the prospect. Jim scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed.

"Basically. Oh yeah, everyone is to go down in their ship uniforms, even if you are still a cadet. They want us looking our best." Everyone nodded, and Jim waved a hand. "So in short, you've got two hours to prepare for the g-"

"Jim, if you say gallows, I'm going to hurt you." Jim shot him a quick glare before clearing his face.

"As I was saying, two hours to prepare for the noise. To reiterate what I announced on the shipwide earlier, we have been ordered to not speak to any of the media without express permission at this point in time. Unfortunately, Starfleet can't keep them from trying. So do your best to ignore them, try not to get arrested for assault- you know, the standard things." Uhura's lips twitched, but Len watched her glance over at Chris before deciding to keep her mouth shut. Smart woman. He knew that Uhura and Jim had met under less than auspicious circumstances, but there were times to bring it up and times where it was clearly inappropriate. He saw Sulu raise a hand slightly, and Jim nodded.

"What about family? Will we get to see them, or do they want to debrief us first?" Jim looked down at the PADD sitting in front of him.

"We will have a short meeting after we make it back to Command, then you will be released for the next forty-eight hours. There has been no word yet on individual debriefings yet, so I figure they are still working out their plans." Sulu nodded, but Jim's phrasing made Len pause. Damn it. They were going to be separated almost immediately.

"Your orders are different." He was only reassured by the fact that he wasn't the only one who jumped at Chris's voice, but it was a small comfort.

"Our orders are different. I just received an update that informs you, me, and Commander Spock that we will remain at Starfleet Command after the central meeting, unless you are in need of any immediate medical care, sir." Chris was clearly unsurprised by the news, and the older man glanced at the others at the table before looking over at Spock and his son.

"As we expected, then." Spock and Jim both nodded in tandem, and Len resisted rolling his eyes at the sight before the reality of the situation caught up with him. How long were the three going to be forced to remain at Command? Jim and Spock were both in good shape, excepting the fact Jim hadn't had more than a two hour catnap in the last thirty-six hours, but Chris wasn't a hundred percent yet. The idiots better not have designs on keeping him there for some eight hour long interrogation or some nonsense, or orders or no orders, he would rescue the man himself. Chris was looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and Len settled back in his chair with a sigh. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he had boarded the Enterprise, but it had been less than a month; a month of watching Jim adapt to his new circumstances, of watching a very secure and independant man work through the realization that he may not ever be able to walk again- and of course, experiencing what was basically a closed society react to a tragedy that Len sure as hell knew he would never be able to fathom. During that time the ship and its crew had become everything; with no reliable outside communication for weeks, their focus had drawn far more inward than would have normally occured on a standard mission, and it had showed. Things that would have never flown on a starship at any other time had been all but standard for awhile, from Gaila's sleeping harem in Engineering to one of the observation decks having been turned into a massive two-week long slumber party; he didn't even want to think about that damn feather collecting again. They were probably all fucked for a future as an average Starfleet crew.

"-so if you haven't packed yet, do it now. We've got a big day ahead of us." Len listened as Jim's rambling warning came to an end, and watched in silence as Chekov and Sulu nodded to the group and left, followed by Scotty, who was babbling something about the impulse engines and shaking his head; he decided that he would go ahead and make sure the patients were properly prepared for transport while the current and former captains of the Enterprise talked shop in their little huddle. Getting to his feet, he nodded in Jim's direction before leaving the room; he didn't realize he had a companion until the turbolift doors closed, and he raised an eyebrow at Uhura, who leaned over and paused the lift mid-floor with a single slender finger.

"You know, I'm surprised that the lifts remain running with everyone doing this." Uhura's dark eyes glittered with amusement, and she made a tsk sound before stepping firmly into his personal space, her hands on her hips.

"You and Kirk." His eyebrow quirked a bit higher.

"What about us?" Uhura glared at him, but it was softened by a look of concern that made him frown. "I don't have time to stand around, Lieutenant." Uhura rolled her eyes.

"Kirk's been acting with his usual bravado, but there's going to be a lot of shit the instant we get down there. I wanted to make sure you were ready for it, Kirk's not always easy to deal with under normal circumstances." It took Len a moment to parse her statement, but when he did, a smile twitched up the edges of his lips.

"You aren't just worried about me, Uhura." She shot him a dirty look before sighing and shaking her head.

"Kirk's been hiding since he was a kid, hasn't he?" Len sobered, stepping back and leaning against the wall.

"The wings sprouted when he was eleven." Uhura's mouth dropped slightly, but she recovered swiftly and walked up to his side, propping her hip against the wall.

"Who knew?"

"Nosy, aren't you?" Uhura snorted delicately.

"I believe in keeping informed." Len looked down at her, hazel eyes meeting brown as they looked at each other. He broke away first, walking to the controls and starting the lift.

"The office is a better place for this." Uhura stayed quiet as they walked into Sickbay; he scanned the room before turning and entering the office he could call his own for two more hours, one communications officer in his wake. Rounding his desk, he settled into the chair as Uhura sat gracefully in the chair across from him, her gaze expectant as he tried to collect his thoughts. "There are some things I don't know, and there are things that aren't my place to be repeating."

"I know. What can you tell me?" Uhura folded her hands in her lap, and Len let himself lean back in his chair.

"You wanted to know who knew, right? I only found out about two weeks before the shit hit the fan." She hadn't expected that answer, that much was clear; her eyebrows shot up and she straightened her back. After a long moment of staring at him like he had sprouted another head, she grinned, her eyes glittering with something he couldn't name.

"This is something I never thought I would say, but I think I'm a bit jealous of Kirk." His face must have shown his thoughts on her proclamation, because she began to laugh, a sweet sound that he definitely could stand to hear more often. "The half of campus that didn't believe the stupid rumors between Kirk and Captain Pike were positive you two are the unlikely couple of our year. I think they were considering putting you guys in the yearbook under that heading." He scowled, and she laughed again. "I'm pretty sure they have a collection of holos of you two around campus with Kirk snoring away next to you." Len scowled.

"Don't they have anything more important to do? Like, oh, I don't know, study?"

"Who else knew?" Uhura paused, her eyes narrowing. "Captain Pike knew. He may have been trashed when they got him back, but he didn't bat an eye at the fact he had basically a literal guardian angel shielding him with his wings." Len tilted his head in agreement.

"Pike's an old friend of the family. He's known all along." Uhura mulled it over, then shifted back in her seat and crossed her legs.

"I assume his mother knew. Was there anyone else?"

"One other of importance." Uhura's eyes narrowed, and he let her think it over. After some time passed, he leaned forward, propping his chin on a closed fist. "Consult your memories of the campus rumor mills." He watched the younger woman's brow furrow, and he let his eyes drift closed for a moment.

"Gaila didn't know. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been that panic about attacking him awhile back. So, hmmm-" Her eyes widened, and Len opened his eyes again as she gasped. "Admiral Archer knew!" He chuckled, nodding as he rose to his feet.

"You actually figured it out." Her answering smile was self-assured as she stood, brushing her uniform down.

"That's an old rumor, and honestly, it's a lot more credible than the ones linking Kirk and the Captain." Uhura blinked, her smile turning feral. "Well, now that you and Kirk are squared away, just how accurate is the rumor between Archer and Pike?" Len groaned, his lips twisting as he met her at the door.

"They argue like an old married couple, but from what either Jim and I can tell, they are two heaping cases of denial. He's made it his personal mission to get them together, even if it takes a few decades." The grin on Uhura's face spelled trouble, and he shook his head. "I wouldn't interfere with them, Jim's allowed to get away with it, but-"

"Well, even Kirk knows a worthy cause when he sees it." He chuckled quietly, but he couldn't muster up a lot of energy as the office door opened, revealing the Sickbay he would be leaving in a very short time. Uhura's grin faded, and they stood there together silently, watching the nurses and M'Benga bustle around.

"Let me know if I can do anything, alright?" The offer was whispered, and Len's head whipped around as she patted his arm. "Kirk's still an asshole, but he's an asshole who's used to being left alone or harrassed for all the wrong reasons. Now everyone is going to be paying attention to him, and it won't all be for the right reasons. You're going to have your hands full." He just blinked at her, not sure what to say; Uhura gave him a soft smile and moved towards the door, which hissed open and waited as she paused in the doorway. "If you mention a word of this to him, I'll deny everything." Len smiled, a real smile, one that wasn't just the slight twitch of the lips that had been all he could summon for the most part for the last month, and Uhura's eyes glittered in reply.

"Thank you, Nyota." The petite woman stepped out into the hallway with a nod.

"See you at the transporter, Leonard." See you at the transporter. She might as well have said see you at the firing squad, by the way his pulse was racing. Chapel roused him from his thoughts by calling him over to confirm the procedures for patient transport with him for M'Benga, who was being forced to take his place due to the orders from Starfleet; he forced himself to focus solely on Sickbay matters until it was time to go.

The time flew all too quickly, and the shipwide announcement of standby for docking silenced Sickbay, a few seconds later, a small shudder under their feet announced their arrival. They were home. The comm system popped into life, and Jim's face appeared on the screen. Everyone's attention turned to the man who had managed to save their asses and keep the ship together, knowing that this may be the last time they heard him like this. As Len's eyes traced the strong jaw and the dark shadows that had been omnipresent since the battle, he knew if Starfleet had any brains, it wouldn't be.

"As was just announced, we have officially docked within the San Francisco Fleet Yards. I know this has been a trying thirty days, but we have all worked together to achieve what to many will seem impossible; we have stayed the course and survived to return home. We stand in solidarity with our Vulcan friends in their time of need and beyond, and we will all remember those who did not return with us. The events of only a little over four weeks ago have shaken the Federation, have shaken every one of us, but as someone very wise once said, a still more glorious dawn awaits; we will do our best to honor their memory and move forward to achieve what they sought. I am honored to have served with each and every one of you, and I wish you all every success in your future endeavors; on behalf of Captain Pike and myself, I thank you again for a job well done. Acting Captain James T. Kirk, out."

It was far from a perfect speech, Len knew; he could have phrased things better, could have gone more in depth with the platitudes that people loved to hear on the news holos, but he hadn't. As he listened to Rose and Borsato sniff quietly behind him and saw Chapel smiling as she stood next to him, he gave a soft smile to the blank screen. It may not have been what the press would like, but they didn't matter. Jim knew what they needed to hear.

"Doctor McCoy, please report to the Transporter Room." Chapel clasped his shoulder and M'Benga shook his hand as he turned to leave, most of the rest of the Medical staff following suit; he reached the door before turning back and facing them. They were all looking at him expectantly. Damnit. He was no good at the inspirational speech shit. Chapel looked about ready to interfere, if only out of pity, and Len knew he couldn't let that happen.

"Y'all, I mean, everyone- ah damn." A smattering of laughter went up, and Len ran a hand through his hair as he tried to quell the bubbling embaressment. "I'm no good at this. I-" The amusement was plain on their faces, but it was the pride in their eyes that helped him focus; Len straightened his back and squared his shoulders. "Thank you. Everyone. You all have done a fine job in circumstances that were beyond horrible, and I'm- as the Captain said, I'm honored to have worked with you. We don't know what's going to happen from here on out, but maybe if the higher ups like us, and if it's what you want, we'll be able to work together again someday." He trailed off, and the entire Sickbay quieted with him; the wolf whistle from Rose a few moments later broke the somber mood, and everyone began to laugh, a few of the nurses coming up and shaking his hand as he remained frozen by the door.

"Doctor McCoy, report to the Transporter Room immediately." Chapel snorted, and M'Benga made a face at the comm as everyone laughed again; Len stepped back, the door sliding open behind him, and his mouth quirked into a grin as he looked at the people that had held Sickbay together for the last four weeks.

"See y'all on the flip side." As the door hissed closed behind him, he heard the laughter start up again, and he shook his head as he walked down the hall.

* * *

"You know, I expected people to beam up to wrangle us or something," Len muttered, looking around the Transporter Room at the assembled senior crew. Next to him, Jim gave a rather insincere grin.

"Oh, they tried. I gave some bullshit excuse to keep them from coming up. They'll meet us at the beam-down site." Chris, whose wheelchair was already parked on the transporter pad, quirked an eyebrow at Jim's statement, but it was clear that the man agreed wholeheartedly with the spirit behind the decision. Chekov and Sulu were loitering around the separating wall between the pads and the controls, Chekov looking torn between excitement and nervousness, while Sulu looked almost serene. Seeing the other man made him think on what Jim had mentioned to him the other day, and Len considered walking over to speak with him before shaking his head and staying put. It wasn't his business. Jim's gaze flickered as he looked at him, and he knew that Jim knew exactly what had been going through his head. Spock and Uhura, who had been talking quietly since Len had entered the Transporter Room, looked up as Scott finally entered; Jim smirked at the other man before calling him over with a swish of a wing.

"Took you long enough, Scott." The engineer rolled his eyes as Jim laughed, the younger man giving Scott an understanding look.

"Yeah, I know, Scotty; we'll just have to deal." Jim sobered, looking around the room before hopping onto the pad next to Chris. "I guess this is it, then." Spock and Uhura both took up positions on the pad as Len sighed and flanked Jim on his open side. He hated transporters. "We will remain at the beam down site until you three join us, then we get to find out what's going to happen." Sulu nodded, and Chekov squeaked a reply as Scott worked his way around to the controls. Len looked over at Jim, noting the younger man's stiff posture and pale countenance, and he frowned.

"Jim-"

"Transporting now, don't run off without us."

"Later, Bones," Jim whispered, and Len noted Jim's last words as acting captain with a deepening frown as the lights swirled around them, cutting off any reply.

The pad at Starfleet Command was shockingly empty, with only a few officers waiting for them as they appeared, and all of them stopped mid-statement as they took in the sight before them.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Len bit back a smirk at the sharp voice coming from behind, watching as Jim's head swiveled over with wide eyes as Uhura stepped off the transporter pad, frowning at the silent gawkers. Len blinked against the vertigo that threatened before joining the communications officer in glaring. Jim remained quiet, but his sharp eyes were taking in their surroundings as he helped stabilize Chris's chair as they cleared off the pad, standing to the side as three swirls of light signalled the arrival of the rest of their group. Len could see one of the officers speaking into a comm near them, but he kept his focus on Jim and Chris as the group assembled for what was certainly going to be their big debut. He hoped Jocelyn was letting Joanna watch the news feeds, if only to show her that he was alive. That was probably the only good thing about what was going to happen today, if the uneasiness in his gut was anything to go by. He had a bad feeling about how events were going to unfold over the next few hours, and Jim was the primary cause of that bad feeling. Len looked as one of the officers waiting for them stepped forward, her eyes remaining steadfastly on Jim's face; he gave her serious points for pulling that off without looking once over his shoulder.

"Captain Pike, Lieutenant Kirk, Commander Spock...everyone- welcome home. I'm afraid that I have to escort you all through a media line before the meeting; we ask that no one answer any questions at this time, as we would like to avoid misunderstandings at this time. Family and friends have been asked to wait at a predecided location until after the short meeting." Chekov scoffed quietly, and Sulu's lip curled with irritation at the edict. Len didn't expect anyone to be waiting for him; Aunt Adelaide hated travelling, and the chances of Jocelyn bringing Joanna to see him were almost non-existent. Excepting his little girl, his family was here; with the young man who was trying not to look like he was about to faint next to him, even with the older man who was shooting glances full of barely-concealed concern towards Jim. He had not entered Starfleet looking for a new family, but he had gotten one. He wasn't going to let them down.

"Is everyone ready? Time to go." The liaison waved them over, signalling to the three men that had been captains of the Enterprise in the last month to go in front; Len fell in behind Jim and Chris, while Uhura did the same behind Spock. Scott, Chekov, and Sulu stayed a step behind the rest of them as they set off.

"Jim?" Len blinked and Jim jerked as Chris spoke.

"Yessir?" Jim's voice sounded strangled, and Len had to clench his fists to keep from reaching out to him.

"Breathe." Jim's shoulders lifted from their tensed position as the younger man took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as the light of a clear San Francisco day came into stark view.

"Yessir."

The doors to the front of Starfleet Command slid open, and Len heard Jim take one more deep breath as they stepped into the sun. The roar of the crowd hit him like a punch to the jaw; countless people were yelling questions behind temporary barriers, and Len could see cameras of all types armed at them as they cleared the shadow of the building. An assembled group of admirals and other high-ranking officials were dead ahead, and he was relieved to see Admiral Archer among them, his serious features softening as he looked in their direction. The reporters and media closest to them suddenly silenced, and he knew exactly what they had just focused on; like a crowd doing the wave, the silence spread backwards down the waiting line, and even the admirals were seemingly struck dumb by the sight before them. John was the obvious exception, his face growing stern as he took in the crowd's reaction, and Len could not keep the scowl off of his face. Damn idiots, all of them. He looked over at Jim, who had paused when the crowd quieted, and his mouth went dry. Like an heraldic eagle, his wings were flared in a protective stance behind his father, his profile stark against the bright afternoon sun as he looked from side to side in what could only be seen as a challenging manner. Jim's chin was lifted, his spine and his shoulders set in the commanding posture that had seemed to come naturally to him, the presence that had so skillfully held them all together crystal clear as he faced down the world. He had never looked more beautiful.

"Why didn't you save my daughter, you- you murderer!" Len's head whipped away from Jim just in time to see a woman leap over the barriers past the stunned security officers and dive for Chris; he moved to intercept, but the expected sight of the Captain's wheelchair being knocked over was interrupted by a swish of feathers and a loud smack, the attacker falling to the ground as Jim winced and shook out his left wing. The stunned woman clutched at her bleeding nose and did not move as Jim knelt at her side and whispered in her ear, and Len glared at the security officers as they finally relocated their heads from their asses and approached to take the woman into custody.

"Well, I suppose that could have gone better." Len snorted at the familiar dry tone coming from nearby while he kept an eye on the woman as they took her away, Jim rubbing at his wing absently next to him as the voices began to reemerge, swiftly building into a crescendo that was far worse than what they had walked out to.

"Excuse me if I'm a bit wary of Starfleet's security training, John," Len drawled as he looked over to see the older man standing next to Chris, his hand on the man's shoulder like it belonged there; Jim grinned as he took in the sight, but he visibly forced himself not to say anything, swallowing heavily before opening his mouth.

"Good to see you in the flesh, Admiral." John's green eyes glittered with emotion, but this was certainly not the place to show it, not with all the hyenas moving in, so John simply smiled and nodded, squeezing Chris's shoulder.

"Let's just say that I second the sentiment, but to a much higher degree." John looked out on the ruckus, his features going blank as he looked at the screaming reporters and photographers; Len took a moment to look back at the rest of their group, who were watching events unfold with blatant interest. Uhura gave a slight nod, and Scott shot him a cocky grin and a thumbs up when their eyes met, and Len rolled his eyes and smirked before facing the insanity again. He could get used to the crazy bastard.

"Let's get this over with." Len felt a brush against his arm as Jim spoke, and he returned the sentiment with a quick caress to the inside of the younger man's wrist, watching with satisfaction as a faint flush emerged on Jim's ear tips before he pulled away.

"Lead on, Captain." The process was easier than he thought it would be; Jim kept a faint smile on his face while Len decided that keeping his own features neutral was as good as they were going to get as they walked through the screaming crowds lining the short walk to the primary Starfleet Command building, Chris and John at their side. In true media fashion, the first question that Len heard clearly had nothing to do with their recent trials, and everything to do with Jim's little quirk.

"Are the wings a mutation, Captain Kirk?" Len rolled his eyes. No, they were as they should be. The rest of the world was just going to have to get used to that.

"Why was the Enterprise the only ship to survive?"

"Could things have been done differently to save Vulcan?"

"Are you a result of genetic engineering, Captain Kirk?" Jim's smile slipped for a moment, the younger man managing to recoup before anyone made note of it. The doors were right in front of them, and Len felt his shoulders slump slightly as they scaled the first step.

"What does Starfleet say about the rumors that Captain Pike betrayed the Federation and this very planet by giving up valuable defense secrets to the Romulans?" His hands were wrapped around Jim's wrists before he even fully registered the statement, feeling the muscles under his fingers straining in anger as he kept Jim from lunging at the bastard who had dared voice that shit. Jim glared at him as he tried to work his wrists free, and Len was too busy to realize that Jim wasn't the only one to react. A flash of white and grey made him look up to see John about ready to mirror Jim's prospective actions, the strong physique tensed to spring.

"Goddamned vultures-" John snarled as he turned towards the crowd behind them, and Len frowned as Jim extracted his wrists from his grip and turned to do the same.

"John." The former acting-captain and the admiral both froze, and Len realized that Chris had grabbed Jim's hand as he had spoken. "We've got more important things to do." Jim closed his eyes and turned back around without speaking; John gave the general direction of the horrid questioner a dark look that promised trouble before he regained his composure, his mask slipping back into place as he spun on his heel.

"You are right, Captain, as always. Lead the way." Ignoring the continuing shouted questions, they proceeded into the building without further incident. Len heard an almost incomprehensible sigh from Chris as the doors shut behind them, blocking out most of the noise. It summed up the ludicrousness of their situation quite nicely.

"What kind of shit was that? Er- I mean, that was uncalled for. What happened to a little respect?" Scott blustered as they were ushered into the main hallway, startling Len. He had been so focused on getting through the media line that he had completely forgotten about the others.

"Does that respect also include respect for a fellow officer's pets, Lieutenant Commander?" Scott went as stiff as a board as John met his eye with a wry grin, the tension deflating from the rest of them as the Scotsman fumbled for words.

"Of course, sir. Won't happen again." Jim's lips twitched upwards at the rushed response, and Len shook his head as Chris snorted next to them. John held Scott's gaze for a long moment before raising an eyebrow.

"Damn right it won't. I hate doing transfer paperwork." Chris rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, causing everyone to chuckle at the two men.

"John, shut up before you get yourself in trouble."

"Too late, but that's a matter for another time." Admiral Nogura, Admiral Barnett, and Admiral Komack approached the group together, Barnett's voice tinged with veiled amusement as he nodded to Chris and John before turning his attention to Jim and the rest of them. "Welcome back, all of you. I'm afraid we can't quite let you go just yet, but we will try to make this fast for most of you so you can go meet your families." Komack's eyes were darting between all of them, but his focus was clearly centered on Jim; Nogura wasn't bothering trying to disguise his interest, but his appraisals were centered on both Jim and Chris, who both squared their shoulders at the scrutiny. Len pressed his lips together in resigned irritation. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Coming back to his apartment felt more like entering a hotel room than he had expected it would. There wasn't much dust, thanks to the filters in the enviromental systems, but after almost a month on the Enterprise, it didn't feel like home anymore. He would have to deal, however; Starfleet Command had made it very clear that they were all to remain within easy reach for future debriefings and other assorted meetings, although they were not being asked to return to classes. Len snorted as he stripped the bed. Almost a quarter of the instructors had died up in the black, it was going to take months for them to figure out what to do with the lower classes, let alone the graduating class. He had no clue what any of them would be doing in the near future. He shoved the musty sheets into the laundry and grabbed a set of marginally fresher ones, remaking the bed. All he wanted to do was sleep and not think about anything for a little while. He wasn't one of the only doctors around anymore, he wasn't in a situation with limited equipment and supplies; he could let himself stand down for a evening. Pulling off his uniform shirt, he sat down on the bed and stared at it, feeling the textured blue fabric between his fingers. It hadn't even been a month, but it might as well have been a lifetime; so much had changed, with their lives, their very universe, and- Jim. Everything was coming around to Jim in his mind lately. Len sighed, dropping the blue shirt and leaning over to pull off his boots, followed by his undershirt and pants. It felt strange getting ready for bed in the middle of the day, but he had been released with everyone but the command trio, and unlike the others, there was no family waiting for him. With the exception of his little girl, his family was already here. He threw back the covers and burrowed under them.

"Lights at zero." He closed his eyes and tried to settle in for a nice nap, but it didn't come easily. After a few hours of unsatisfactory dozing and tossing about in bed, he gave up, pushing himself upright with a grunt. After a month of usually having someone in bed with him, it wasn't the same. He puttered around his apartment aimlessly, straightening things that didn't need to be while sipping at the first real alcohol he had tasted since everything had happened. Len grimaced as the Jack burned down his throat. If he felt like acknowledging the rest of the world, he would have gone out for something better, but he was pretty sure the media was probably doing their damnedest to get on campus to ask them pointless questions. He opened his mouth to order the holoscreen on, but the words didn't come. He knew what he had been through, what he had been a part of; did he really want to listen to some talking head rehash it in short snippets and with factoids that were barely relevant? He snorted and knocked back a shot. Fuck no. He eyed his console as he set the empty shot glass on the table next to the bottle of Jack. He needed to call Joanna, let her know that he was alive beyond seeing a thirty second snippet on the news feeds. Jim was probably still holed up in meetings, and he didn't envy him one bit. He glanced at the time, automatically doing the calculation for the difference. It was eight-thirty in Georgia; dinner should be long over by this point, and Joanna never went to bed that early without a special reason. After a quick once-over in the bathroom, brushing his hair back into place and smoothing out his sleep-rumpled clothes, Len sat down in front of the console and powered it up; his messages were overflowing, as he expected, but he would deal with that later. With a few pokes at the screen, the familiar number flashed at the corner of the monitor as he waited for the call to connect; he ran a hand through his hair, darting it down out of sight as the screen stopped flashing. The face that appeared wasn't the one he was looking for, but he managed to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Good evening, Clay." The other man's light chestnut hair looked like it had been styled by a twister, and Len couldn't help the eyebrow from inching up his forehead. Clay grinned in silence response, irritatingly perfect teeth shining as his hands coming up in an attempt to tame the mess, but his success was rather limited. After a moment, he gave up and dropped his hands with a shrug.

"Hey, Leonard- s'not everyday we get a message from a world-famous hero! How are you doing?" Len opened his mouth to respond, but Clay beat him to the line. "Saw your arrival on the news earlier- hell of a thing, y'know, that Kirk kid? I mean, wings? How do you hide something like that?" Clay looked skeptical, and Len couldn't really blame him. It was definitely the type of situation you had to see to believe, as the last three years had told him.

"Surprisingly easy, if you don't mind being incredibly private," Len muttered under his breath, and Clay blinked at him in confusion.

"What was that?" Len shook his head, and Clay looked askance before shrugging again, rising to his feet a moment later. "I suppose I should get Joanna, then. Hold on." Len looked at the old quilt that hung on the wall across the room through the screen as Clay moved out of view; it was grayer than it should have been, and he shook his head. He had always been the one to make sure it stayed dusted; it was clear that Clay hadn't bothered with it and he doubted that Jocelyn had so much as touched the thing since he had left.

"Leonard? Well, look at you!" Jocelyn's voice was audible before she came into view, and Len felt an familiar band of tension in his shoulders tighten automatically. Of all the things to have an automatic reaction for- "You and your crewmates made quite the entrance, from what we saw earlier. I'm actually a little surprised you took so long to call, I figured you'd want to call Joanna right away." Jocelyn's face was carefully neutral, but Len felt his hackles rise at the implication in her words; he forced himself to take a measured breath before responding.

"Jocelyn, Starfleet is keeping us busy right now, I didn't want to frighten my little girl with what I looked like straight out of all the meetings they are having us do, so yes, this was my first real chance-" Jocelyn sighed as he spoke, but he trailed off as a high soprano voice cut in, and Joanna's slender frame, already in a nightshirt, all but shoved her mother out of the way. Len was happy he was able to disguise his amusement in the joy of seeing Joanna again, his face splitting into a grin he didn't want to hide.

"Daddy, is that you?" Big gray eyes were a little too close to the screen, but he didn't mind. He never minded, not when it came to her.

"Nope, this is his rakish, fun-loving counterpart; your boring old Dad will resume normal brain function after a brief delay." He punctuated the statement with a sharp tilt of his head, a few of his bangs coming loose, the ends coming to rest on his brow. Joanna giggled and plopped herself down in the chair in front of her console, shaking her head.

"Dad, you are really silly, you know that?" His cheeks were already getting sore from smiling, but he didn't care. He lifted a hand and pressed it against the screen, Joanna mirroring the motion a moment later.

"I'm just happy to see you, Joanna." He could feel his eyes prickle, but a few blinks chased the sensation away; Joanna's eyes were also suspiciously shiny, and he softened his smile.

"I'm really glad you are okay, Daddy." Len knew he had lucked out. Right up there with Galactic Powerball level luck; there were millions of things that could have gone wrong, and despite that, he and Jim had pulled through...even Chris's prognosis was excellent. The survivor's guilt hadn't really reared its head yet, but he had felt shades of it creeping around the edges of his consciousness over the last few weeks. Looking at Joanna made the feeling subside, and he nodded at his daughter.

"I'm really glad too, sweetheart." A surprisingly comfortable silence fell between them, and he kept his hand pressed against the screen as they held each others gazes; it was Joanna who broke first, her free hand coming into view as she waved her index finger at him.

"Alright, Dad, talk. You left off a rather important part when you told me about Jim the last few times we talked, as the news showed earlier." Her hand didn't leave the screen, but she crossed her free arm across her chest, tucking her hand under her armpit and pursing her lips; Len chuckled at his daughter's narrowed eyes and shook his head lightly.

"I didn't know until just a little while ago, Joanna. I didn't forget to tell you." Joanna boggled, her other hand slipping from the monitor as she crossed her arms properly.

"How did you not see the big feathered wings sticking out, Dad?" Len snorted, lifting his own hand from the screen and poking it with his index finger.

"He hid them under his clothes." Joanna's eyebrow skills were definitely improving, and a little part of him couldn't wait to see her really use it on her mother.

"Likely story." He wasn't go to tell her everything, not with Jocelyn and Clay in earshot, but he could tell her a few things. As he took in the suspicious look she was shooting him, he felt a serious amount of tension he didn't even know he had fade. Life was going to be hectic for quite some time, he knew, but no one was going to keep him from enjoying some time with his little girl.

"Well, you see, Joanna-"

* * *

"I don't even know this woman!" Jim scowled at the screen as the attractive redhead went on about how the father of her little girl was none other then the savior of the planet, spinning a soap-opera worthy yarn about how they had supposedly met during college and had fallen desperately in love. Len snorted as the story got more and more ridiculous, barely resisting the urge to change to a different feed around the time she claimed that he had flown her on a trip around the world, but he couldn't resist a dig at the younger man.

"How could you forget your destined love, Jim? I mean, she makes you sound like you should be in the tattered remains of some silk shirt and posing with those bulging muscles you have somewhere in your dreams on a book cover; you only left her side because you knew you had to save the world!" Gaila tittered from her place on the floor, and Jim glared at her before rolling his eyes at Len.

"She just said she went to college in New York! I've only visited the place, I've never lived there!" Len shrugged as the reporter tried to look like he was wholly believing of the delusional woman still going on about their epic love, but it was clear that even a tabloid reporter had his limits. Gaila waved a hand dismissively at the screen as the segment came to an end.

"I can't believe how shoddy their research is, even for one of these sensationalized news feeds." The Orion looked up at Jim with a grin, ordering the feed to mute. Jim shifted as he groaned, and Len ran a hand through the unruly dark blond hair resting on top of his thigh. "I mean, how hard is it to look up that you went to the University of California, Barstow?" Len blinked, looking down at the suddenly stiff young man using him as a pillow.

"I didn't know that." Jim pursed his lips, and Len tugged gently on the younger man's hair to calm him down. It didn't work.

"I didn't finish," Jim mumbled, and Gaila nodded, seemingly oblivious to the fact Jim was currently trying to impersonate Spock with serious constipation.

"You left after your second year, after your grades took a rather marked tumble. You then decided to go on a trip of some sort, and you didn't return to California for over a year and a half...which is when you entered the Academy." Jim's frown deepened, and Len's hand fell from his head as Jim sat up and faced Gaila directly.

"How long ago did you look me up, Gaila?" Gaila shrugged, examining her fingernails as Jim continued to stare at her.

"About a year and a half ago. I wasn't planning on it originally, but I was doing some maintenance and software upgrades on the servers and systems that store the non-classified personnel data, so I was testing it by plugging in various friend's names. I had just installed a test program to scan for duplicates, and when I looked you up, I was shown two separate files as potential dups. It wasn't much of a leap to figure out some things from there, considering the only major difference in the header of the file was the last name." Jim's eyebrows had inched up his forehead as the Orion had spoken, and Len shook his head lightly and settled back in the sofa. "Before you ask, I did a little tweaking to make sure your two files don't show up at the same time like that again, so I'm pretty sure I'm the only one to have noticed that way." Jim boggled at her for a moment longer before his shoulders sagged, and Len wrapped his arm around the younger man's waist as he slumped into his arms. "You two are so perfect for each other, by the way," Gaila said, her lips curving up into a lovely smile that made him fight to restrain a blush.

"Are you just saying this because you want Jim to drop the subject?" Gaila's brow furrowed, and she shook her head.

"No, I'm saying it because it is true." He could feel Jim's skin grow warm against him, and he lost his own battle on his own reaction to her statement; Jim turned his head enough to smirk at him before looking back at Gaila.

"You could charm a bat-leth off a Klingon, Gaila."

"Who says I haven't?" Jim grinned, and Len felt himself smiling as well as Jim sat back up again, sparing a glance at the screen before returning his gaze to the woman lounging on the floor.

"So you've known for awhile where I actually live and...stuff."

"Yeah, I have. Obviously, I didn't know about the other thing, but that information is more medical records-type info anyway."

"I can guarantee it's there now."

"Probably. Jim, I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to freak out. You've always been very private, and I wanted to respect that as much as I could. The fact it cleared up the Captain Pike rumors for me was a nice bonus, though."

"I-" Jim opened his mouth, then closed it. "Huh." A flash of his name on the comm drew their attention, and Gaila unmuted it so they could listen.

"We totally had a thing, you know? Like, I could see how hot he was even with that hump he always had, so I ignored the haters and hung out with the guy. Great technique, if you get my drift." Jim's jaw dropped, and Len felt his eyebrows draw together at the lascivious eyebrow waggle at the end of the asshole's statement.

"What the hell? Is everyone I so much as bumped into at a club or bar going to come out of the woodwork now?" Jim fluffed his wings in obvious irritation, smacking Len in the side; Len slid forward on the cushion and let the wing go behind him before he got pummelled with feathers again. Gaila hissed at the screen, her long fingers twisting into a sign that he didn't know, but he was pretty sure wasn't polite.

"He sounds like he was doing you a favor by actually acknowledging you! All of these fools- chuulak for them all!" Len could guess that whatever chuulak meant, it wasn't good; a glance at Jim earned him a soft smile and a shake of the head.

"Whatever you just said, darlin', I probably agree with." Gaila grinned, getting onto her knees and pressing a kiss into Len's cheek; he knew that her orange lipstick would be killer to remove, but he would deal. The fact that the tabloids were having far too much fun running with every single person who claimed to have known Jim was just damned horrid, and if he had the chance, he'd be happy to find some pleasantly nasty hypospray to introduce them to. They would just have to make sure it didn't get into the main news feeds, because as far as he knew, ninety-nine percent of the crap these idiots were spewing was pure unadulterated lies; if he didn't do anything about it, he knew Chris would. Jim's father may allow Jim to make his own mistakes, but you didn't fuck with him. The younger man, under the influence of a few too many beers, had merrily told him a story about how a bartender had once called Chris Poppa Bear, and Len had the suspicion he was going to be seeing that side of the Captain more and more often as time passed if this nonsense kept up.

"Why the hell are we watching the tabloid feeds, anyway? What happened to quality journalism?" Jim's eyebrows lifted in clear amusement as he looked over at Len, and Len rolled his eyes as Jim opened his mouth.

"You mean it existed at one point? Seems like most of the stuff you get off the old feeds from hundreds of years ago wasn't much different. Have you read some of the articles about the Maine?" Len squinted at Jim in confusion, and Jim grinned. "Brush up on your history, Bones."

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a-"

"-historian; yeah, well, I bet you could tell me a laundry list of medical revolutionaries off the top of your head, old man. Still history." The younger man waved a loose hand in dismissal, preempting any chance of Len replying as Gaila changed to a more mainstream feed. He recognized the reporter on screen as one of the ones he had seen a few days ago among the throng that had wanted a piece out of all of them; she was standing in a rather unextraordinary area that seemed to be mostly comprised of crop fields, and for just a moment, Len hoped that they weren't talking about the Battle of Vulcan again. It took him a moment longer to realize that Jim had all but turned to stone next to him, but before he could speak, the woman on screen beat him to it.

"Alka Yagnik reporting from Riverside, Iowa. I'm currently outside the Kirk family homestead, where all attempts to get a statement from Commander Winona Kirk, the mother of James Kirk and widow of George Kirk, hero of the tragic Kelvin disaster, have failed. There are growing questions as to her role in her son's life, as interviews of some of the locals have revealed that Captain Kirk spent little to no time here in Riverside after returning from a trip off-planet around age eleven, sparing a few months shortly before his admission into Starfleet. As it is clear that the information about his x-gene being active was kept from the public, if not the rest of Starfleet, the question remains: where was James Kirk staying all this time, and who kept the secret for him?" Jim's sigh was almost inaudible, but both Len and Gaila looked at him with trepidation as his eyes slid closed.

"Want me to do some...maintenance on the personnel systems?" Gaila's voiced question was tentative, and Len kept quiet as he brushed his hand against Jim's thigh, watching the other man tamp down his emotions with a strained grimace. After a moment, Jim shook his head and opened his eyes.

"Tempting, but no. I would be lying if I said I was anything but proud to be Captain Pike's son, adopted or not, and I don't want even the appearance that I'm ashamed of the connection. I'm worried about how it's going to come down on Dad, but-"

"You can't tell me that you two weren't prepared for this, Jim. Chris is as likely to forsake you as he is to dip John in the middle of Starfleet Command and make out with him in front of everyone without chemical persuasion." Len grinned when a remotely disgusted expression stripped the stress from Jim's features. "There's nothing wrong with privacy, after all." Gaila hopped to her feet and put her hands on her hips, leaning over into their personal space with a grin that Len didn't trust in the slightest.

"Fifty credits says that the public won't figure out the relationship between you and Captain Pike for at least a week." Jim boggled at her, and the Orion grinned at Len in silent triumph.

"Bets? You want to bet on this?" Jim's voice had lost the dull tone he had been unsuccessfully hiding ever since they had managed to get together for the first time since they had split after their arrival back on Earth, replaced by a disbelieving squawk. Len quirked an eyebrow and nodded. He and Gaila made a decent team when it came to distracting Jim, and he knew they were going to have to employ more of that teamwork as the media continued digging into Jim's life. A little part of him hoped that their obsession with the _angel of Earth_ would keep their minds off of digging up dirt on anyone else, but he wouldn't hold his breath. The newscast had moved on to yet another analysis of the battle from the viewpoint of their so-called experts, and he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift as Jim and Galia argued over something completely pointless. It was a refreshing change of pace from the last few weeks.

* * *

"So, you have fourteen kids by three different species of women and one hermaphroditic being, you attended school on six different planets, earning about twenty-five degrees in everything from engineering to EVA basket weaving, and you were either gifted to your mother from star spirits as a gift for your father's sacrifice, or you are a changeling sent from Mother Earth herself to fix the genetic mess that humans made of themselves two-hundred odd years ago." Scotty paused, scratching at his chin with a thoughtful smile while obviously ignoring Jim's growing scowl. "-and I thought I was pretty busy growing up." Len couldn't help the snort that followed, and Jim turned his glare to him.

"Don't even start, Bones." Len shrugged, leaning back into his chair and wiping the threatening smirk off of his face.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Jim's suspicious gaze lessened slightly, and Len tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "I've always wanted to learn how to basket weave." Scotty grinned beside him, and Jim pinched the bridge of his nose in a move that Len had seen Chris do a hundred times. Like father, like son. The mood turned somber as Jim continued not to speak, and Len watched the Scotsman take a quaff from his ale before leaning over and giving a quick squeeze to Jim's shoulder.

To be continued...


End file.
